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BLACK  GOLD 


j2^^ 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  -   DALIJIS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MBLBOURNB 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


BLACK   GOLD 


BY 

L.  ELWYN  ELLIOTT  (^/  ec 

Author  of  "Brazil:  Today  and  Tomorrow" 


.      r  '- 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1920 
AVL  righU  reserved 


COPTBIGHT,  1920, 

bt  the  macmillan  company 


Bet  up  and  eleotrotyped.    Published  October,  1020 


BLACK  GOLD 
I 

WHEN  Margarita  came  out  of  the  little  rail- 
way station  and  turned  to  the  left  where  a 
long  ribbon  of  sandy  road  climbed  the  hill  the 
light  was  already  fading. 

No  passenger  but  herself  had  alighted  from  the 
London  train:  no  other  living  things  were  in  sight 
but  Bob,  the  carrier  from  Sansoe,  slowly  gathering 
together  the  packages  flung  from  the  guards '  van, 
and  his  old  piebald  horse,  that  imperturbable  serv- 
itor, very  close  kin  to  Bob  himself.  When  she 
came  back,  if  she  came  back,  from  this  rather  mad 
adventure  to  Brazil,  she  would  find  them  here  just 
the  same,  jogging  along  the  moorland  roads,  she 
said  to  herself.  The  cart  passed  her  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  but  she  smiled  and  shook  her  head  when 
Bob  offered  her  a  lift;  she  wanted  to  think,  to  have 
a  little  time  to  get  her  story  ready,  to  render  her 
fantastic  proposition  clear-cut,  before  she  launched 
it  into  the  middle  of  her  family.  Casual  as  they 
were,  you  couldn't  expect  them  to  swallow  the 
Amazon,  as  it  were,  without  a  gulp.  The  matter 
would  need  a  trifle  of  tact. 

Surmounting  the  rise  with  the  easy  swing  of 
the  country-bred,  she  kept  her  eyes  upon  the 
haunted  wood  just  below  the  crest,  not  consciously 
seeing  it,  but  soothed  by  its  dark,  withdrawn 
greenness.  The  sharp  tang  of  October  fought  with 
the  vanishing  warmth  of  a  brilliant  day:  the  acid- 


425478 


%v.  .        :   .  BLACK  GOLD 

sweet  scent  of  heather  and  bracken  hung  in  the 
air.  When  she  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  abreast 
of  the  wood's  last  trees,  she  checked  her  steps  for 
a  moment,  looking  down  upon  the  little  gorge  be- 
low with  its  stream  a  rosy  thread  caught  up  into 
the  sea,  itself  an  opal  mirror,  and  the  pale  road 
that  left  Sansoe  below,  and  rose  to  twist  away  to 
Tregarwith. 

Beyond  the  bridge  over  the  little  river,  a  few 
hundred  yards  after  the  road  began  to  run  up- 
wards again  sharply,  a  path  diverged  from  it 
almost  at  right  angles,  skirting  the  rise  and  seek- 
ing the  sea.  Following  this  line,  the  girPs  eyes 
encountered  a  big  square  house,  its  back  to  but- 
tressing granite,  set  in  a  nest  of  sheltered  trees, 
but  with  a  hardy  face  turned  to  wind  and  weather. 
As  she  looked,  lights  began  to  appear  in  the  win- 
dows and  streamed  from  the  porch;  the  door  was 
open  for  her. 

She  still  stood  without  moving,  looking  at  the 
house  and  valley  and  sea  and  moors,  as  if  they 
suddenly  presented  themselves  from  some  new 
viewpoint;  the  long  lines  of  dipping  heather-clad 
moorland  were  red-purple  in  the  dying  light,  a 
haze  already  creeping  up  from  the  sea  to  their 
margins.  The  whole  bold  outline  of  the  country 
was  bared  to  the  sky  and  the  eternal  winds,  the 
granite  frame  only  lightly  covered  with  the  close 
mantle  of  grass  and  heather,  ling  and  gorse;  woods 
there  were,  but  these  crouched  in  hollows  in  the 
mass  of  purple  heights  and  shoulders,  sheltering 
from  salt  air  and  beating  storms.  Last  she  looked 
at  straggling  Sansoe,  a  double  line  of  sturdy  stone 
cottages  set  along  the  banks  of  the  river  in  their 
slip  of  a  haven.  But  Margarita  saw  the  village  not 
as  a  haven  but  as  a  starting  point  for  great  ad- 
ventures. In  the  deep  and  narrow  inlet  lay  three 


BLACK  GOLD  5 

or  fonr  fishing  boats,  rocking  gently,  their  slim 
masts  high  above  the  cottage  roofs,  frail  impudent 
craft  waiting  their  chance  for  sea  harvests. 

She  walked  on  presently,  but  saw  no  road.  Be- 
fore her  eyes  was  the  dark,  stuffily  upholstered 
waiting  room  in  the  station  in  London,  its  coal  fire 
blazing,  a  fat  woman  knitting  silently  in  the  cor- 
ner, and  Francina  standing  in  front  of  the  mirror, 
staring  at  her  own  pretty  face,  and  talking  about 
Brazil.  Wherever  there  was  an  accessible  looking- 
glass,  Francina  was  always  sure  to  be  in  front  of 
it;  Francina  with  her  powder  puff,  her  borrowed 
furs,  the  hole  in  her  stocking,  her  gay  laugh  and 
lovely  eyes,  waving  her  little  hands  and  insisting 
upon  far  lands  and  diamonds.  Outside,  the  chilly 
mist  of  London,  entering  now  and  again  when 
somebody  opened  the  door,  had  seemed  like  a 
caustic  intrusion  upon  Francina — that  bewitching 
sister  with  such  a  reserve  of  rocky  common  sense 
behind  all  her  carelessness  and  frivolities,  and 
with  such  deep  crevasses  of  irresponsibility  scored 
in  that  same  rock. 

In  what  other  way  could  you  account  for  Fran- 
cina's  romantic  error  of  marrying  at  eighteen, 
and  marrying,  of  all  people,  Salvatore,  with 
nothing  in  all  the  world  but  his  handsome  Italian 
face,  his  nearly  first-class  tenor  voice,  and  his 
world-wide  experience  of  second-rate,  hand-to- 
mouth  opera  companies?  It  had  been  Francina 's 
major  departure  from  the  serene  bee  line  of  per- 
sonal advantage  that  she  had  followed  since  child- 
hood; she  had  always  been  completely  absorbed  in 
her  own  personality,  a  vain  little  peacock  accus- 
tomed to  perennial  spoiling,  and  accepting  tributes 
to  her  fair,  angelic  beauty  with  unstirred  calm. 

Margarita,  three  years  younger  and  of  a  much 
less  sensational  beauty,  had  never  dreamed  of 


6  BLACK  GOLD 

criticizing  the  adored  Francie,  but  now,  thinking 
upon  the  scene  she  had  left,  she  felt  herself  again 
thrilled,  almost  terrified,  by  the  revelation  of  a 
passionate  purpose. 

**I  want  something  out  of  life  I''  Francina's 
voice  had  said,  lowered  for  the  sake  of  the  knitter 
in  the  corner.  **And  for  you,  too,  darlingest  child, 
of  course !'*  as  a  hurried  afterthought.  **I  will 
make  the  world  give  me  what  I  want  I  Look  at  me 
and  you — aren't  we  strong  and  pretty,  human 
beings  worth  something?  How  are  we  going  to 
get  it?  Think  of  father,  down  there  in  Cornwall 
with  his  books — oh!^^  She  had  powdered  her  little 
white  neck  angrily.  '*  When  I  think  of  it  that  there 
are  ropes  and  ropes  of  pearls,  and  bushels  and 
bushels  of  diamonds  in  this  world,  and  mountains 
of  glorious  furs  and  lace,  and  I  haven't  a  scrap  of 
any  of  them!  And  all  of  them  mined  and  hunted 
for  and  made  lovely  for  women  like  me.  I  mean 
to  have  them!  Margarita,  do  you  know  something 
IVe  found  out?  The  only  thing  it's  worth  while 
for  a  woman  to  be,  is  to  be  a  woman.'' 

When  they  had  gone  out  into  the  street  again, 
so  that  Margarita  could  see  Francie  into  the  tube 
before  taking  her  own  train,  Francie  had  stood 
still  on  the  edge  of  the  pavement  to  cry  out  with 
indignation:  *^0h,  do  look  at  that  terrible  old 
woman!  With  her  Chow  and  her  pearls,  in  that 
big  green  car!  Oh,  what  a  crime!  Look  at  her, 
nearly  rolling  out  of  her  cushions  with  fat  and 
laziness,  and  two  rows  of  pearls  round  her  atro- 
cious neck!  Pearls!  Wl^ien  I  get  them  I  shall  wear 
them  all  the  time.  I  shall  sleep  in  them.  .  .  . 
And  her  furs !  Margie,  what  a  lot  of  happiness  men 
miss,  don't  they,  not  adoring  clothes!  I  wonder 
what  they  think  about  instead?  Us,  I  suppose." 


BLACK  GOLD  7 

Waving  good-by  to  her  sister,  she  had  turned 
back  for  a  final  shot,  delivered  with  dancing  eyes: 
*'Salvatore  says  that  the  last  opera  company  that 
went  to  the  Amazon  came  back  with  such  tons  of 
money  that  they  all  bought  villas  in  the  Riviera, 
except  the  girls  who  stayed  there  and  married 
rubber  millionaires — don't  laugh,  darling!'' 

*^Well,  you^YQ  got  Salvatore,"  Margarita  had 
reminded  her,  and  she  had  responded  a  trille  ab- 
sently: **0h,  yes!  The  precious  dear,  of  course," 
and  vanished  in  the  crowd. 

Margarita  had  not  been  affected  by  the  vision  of 
pearls  by  the  pailful,  but  her  heart  leaped  at  the 
thought  of  strange  tropic  lands,  of  wild  sun- 
drenched forests,  of  great  skies  with  new  stars 
shining  in  their  velvet  depths,  of  far  waters  and 
foreign  voices.  In  the  rather  queer  house  of  her 
upbringing  she  had  seen  from  her  babyhood  a 
procession  of  visitors  pass  constantly,  men  who 
talked  lightly  of  Persia  and  Samoa,  Java  and 
Greenland.  How  many  times  she  had  stood,  wor- 
shipping and  curious,  before  the  huge  hyacinthine 
macaw,  the  evil-tempered  bird  that  had  fought 
the  cat  and,  alas !  died  of  the  victory.  Burying  him 
with  tears,  she  had  buried  an  enchanted  messenger 
from  wonderful  far  countries;  perhaps,  she  said 
now,  still  regretfully  thinking  of  him,  he  had  come 
down  that  very  mighty  Amazon  up  whose  waters 
she  soon  might  go. 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  house  she  had  in 
mind  already  traversed  foreign  lands,  and  was  re- 
turning like  one  of  those  eager-talking,  hollow- 
eyed  men  who  came  to  this  out-of-the-way  spot  to 
see  her  father.  She  turned  in  at  the  driveway, 
looking  at  the  daisy  trees  with  the  eyes  of  a 
stranger;  their  stems  and  leaves  were  dim  in  the 
twilight,  but  their  little  faces  were  as  bright  as 


8  BLACK  GOLD 

new  stars.  Faced  with  the  native  granite  of  the 
moors,  the  house  was  a  solid  structure,  given  grace 
by  the  thick  shrubbery  about  it  and  the  loveliness 
of  the  scene;  standing  upon  a  natural  ledge  based 
upon  and  backed  by  an  outcropping  of  stone,  it 
looked  to  the  sea,  but  on  the  sheltered  side  a  ve- 
randa ran  along  its  flank,  with  a  flagged  terrace 
and  pillars  twined  with  hardy  roses  and  clamatis. 
From  this  point  you  looked  across  the  valley  be- 
yond the  rolling  moors  until  higher  hills  barred 
the  sky. 

From  the  great  porch  door  streamed  the  leaping 
light  of  a  log  fire,  and  as  she  went  in,  unwinding 
a  blue  scarf  from  her  throat,  shouts  greeted  her. 
Gypsy  and  Brooke,  long-legged  children,  knelt 
toasting  bread  before  the  fire,  and  her  stepmother, 
sitting  composed  and  cheerful  at  her  round  tea 
table,  gave  her  the  large  smile  that  was  an  unfail- 
ing part  of  her  stepmotherly  equipment.  A  pleas- 
ant, stoutish,  gray-haired  woman,  the  second 
Mrs.  Channing,  with  very  blue  eyes  and  red  wind- 
whipped  cheeks.  She  had  a  slight  affection  of  the 
right  eye,  a  quick  occasional  movement  that  gave 
her  an  air  of  humorous  twinkling,  of  having  a 
secret  joke  with  you.  Francina  always  said  that 
Channing  pere  had  married  her  on  this  account. 
*^He  thought  she  winked  at  him,  and  you  know 
father's  always  ready  to  take  a  sporting  chance." 
She  had  been  a  widow  of  the  neighborhood,  and, 
childless  herself,  had  acquired  the  family  with 
complaisance,  even  enthusiasm.  A  great  stickler 
for  non-intrusion,  she  declined  to  tread  anywhere 
near  the  privileges  of  the  lovely  dead  mother,  and 
refused  to  be  called  anything  but  Aunt  Kitty.  The 
two  younger  children  had  been  quite  small  things 
when  she  accepted  Arthur  Channing 's  invitation, 
and  it  was  she  who  had  placed  photographs  of 


BLACK  GOLD  9 

their  mother  over  their  beds,  taken  them  regu- 
larly to  her  grave,  and  taught  them  to  keep  half  a 
dozen  anniversaries. 

She  did  not  question  Margarita  about  her  hasty 
trip  to  town,  at  Francina's  rather  incoherent  tele- 
graphed behest  three  days  before.  **Far  be  it  from 
me  to  catechize  Arthur  Channing  ^s  girls, ' '  was  her 
attitude.  But  she  looked  upon  the  slim  young 
creature  before  her  with  affection  that  may  not 
have  been  unmixed  with  curiosity,  twinkling 
kindly  at  the  glowing  face,  flushed  with  moor 
wind.  Brooke  and  Gypsy  were  not  so  discreet; 
they  rained  questions  on  their  sister. 

*^What  did  Francie  want?  When  is  she  coming 
down?  Did  you  get  that  fishing  tackle?  Did  Sal- 
vatore  say  anything  about  his  motor  boat?'' 

^^Francina  sent  her  love  to  everybody,''  said  the 
girl.  And,  looking  across  at  her  stepmother,  added 
a  little  breathlessly:  **She  is  coming  down  by  the 
eight  o'clock  train  to-night — with  Salvatore,  and 
they're  bringing  a  friend.  A  friend  from  Brazil." 

** That's  delightful,  dear;  we'll  put  off  dinner 
till  half -past  eight,"  said  the  lady,  ringing  the  bell 
to  give  her  necessary  calm  orders,  and  ignoring 
the  rejoicing  war  whoops  of  her  stepchildren. 
**Do  have  some  tea,  you  must  be  cold." 

Margarita  took  her  cup,  sat  down  on  a  low  stool, 
and  accepted  a  piece  of  rather  burnt  toast  from 
Brooke 's  gallant  hands.  Brooke,  going  on  for  ten, 
thin  and  restless,  hawk-nosed,  had  nothing  of  the 
grace  of  his  three  sisters,  for  Gypsy,  a  year  older, 
repeated  the  lovely  lines  and  coloring  of  the  two 
elder  girls.  Dark-haired  and  lustrous-eyed,^  a 
secret  child,  with  no  other  comrade  than  her  in- 
separable Brooke,  she  was  a  boy  in  his  company, 
and  a  silent  shadow  in  his  absence.  No  one  knew 
better  than  these  two  the  crannies  of  all  the 


10  BLACK  GOLD 

smugglers'  caves  for  a  dozen  miles  up  and  down 
the  coast;  they  swam  and  fished  and  rowed,  gal- 
loped on  their  shaggy  ponies  all  over  the  country- 
side, conspired  and  quarreled,  and  let  nobody  into 
their  lives.  Only  one  awful  grief  hung  over  them, 
one  black  threat:  the  not  very  distant  day  when 
Brooke  must  go  away  *Ho  some  really  good  school 
where  he'll  get  well  thrashed,''  as  his  father  re- 
marked now  and  again,  when  some  special  devil- 
ment of  the  two  came  to  his  ken. 

With  the  bottom  of  her  cup  facing  her,  Mar- 
garita took  courage;  she  approached  her  unlikely 
tale  obliquely.  '^Aunt  Kitty,  Salvatore's  bringing 
his  friend — his  name's  Ware — to  tell  you  and 
father  about  Brazil.  You  see,  Salvatore's  getting 

up  a — Salvatore's  very  much  interested "  she 

stopped. 

**Very  interesting  indeed,"  said  her  stepmother 
obligingly.  It  was  at  this  not  too  lucid  moment 
that  Arthur  Channing,  a  book  open  in  his  hands 
and  another  under  his  arm,  strolled  into  the  hall. 
Margarita,  well  aware  that  he  had  forgotten  that 
she  had  been  away  from  home,  rose  and  kissed 
him,  looking  at  him  with  a  mixture  of  relief  and 
indulgence.  Channing  was  not  so  much  of  a 
dreamer  as  a  man  so  deeply  immersed  in  the  par- 
ticular studies  that  attracted  him  that  he  had  little 
violent  emotion  left  for  the  usual  concerns  of  life. 
He  had,  no  doubt,  passionately  loved  the  beautiful 
Portuguese  girl  he  had  brought  home  to  England 
after  one  of  his  periods  of  travel,  but  it  had  been 
the  only  stirring  emotion  of  his  life.  His  attitude 
to  his  family  of  handsome  and  lively  children  was 
that  of  one  gentleman  to  another.  Incapable  of 
making  money,  and  fortunately  blessed  with  an 
inherited  house  and  a  small  income,  he  pursued 
his    path,    much    liked    and  admired    by    men, 


BLACK  GOLD  11 

regarded  with  some  suspicion  by  women — imper- 
meable as  he  was  to  smiles — and  a  very  good 
friend  to  almost  anyone.  Casual,  tolerant,  his  keen 
mind  was  always  fixed  on  the  solution  of  some- 
thing which  had  nothing  to  do  with  living  persons. 

He  stooped  very  little  for  a  man  who  spent  much 
time  among  books;  he  had  retained  an  affection 
for  the  outdoor  life  to  which  his  children  were 
also  inclined,  and  had  taught  them  to  be  good 
watermen  and  walkers,  to  know  plants  and  stones 
and  stars.  He  was,  at  this  time,  still  engaged  in 
the  scientific  studies  whose  elaboration  brought 
him  fame,  if  no  other  reward.  He  had  bright  gray 
eyes,  hair  that  had  been  fair  and  was  now  gray, 
and  a  well-trimmed  pointed  beard.  As  soon  as  he 
had  taken  his  tea  and  muffin  to  the  padded  fender 
stool,  Margarita  came  to  his  side,  and  remarked 
in  an  offhand  manner:  **0h,  father,  Salvatore 
wants  Francie  and  me  to  go  to  Brazil  with  an 
opera  company  his  partner's  arranging.  And  he's 
coming  down  to-night  to  tell  you  and  Aunt  Kitty 
about  it.  Isn't  it  lucky  Francie  and  I  can  sing? 
And  won't  it  be  useful,  our  knowing  some  Portu- 
guese?" 

**  Excellent  idea,"  said  Arthur  Channing. 
''Another  lump  of  sugar,  please,  Kitty." 

*'We're  going  up  the  Amazon,  father,  to  a  place 
that's  just  bursting  with  money,  and  Salvatore 's 
going  to  make  his  fortune  at  last. ' ' 

If  the  young  woman  still  watched  her  father's 
face  with  any  feeling  of  insecurity  her  mind  was 
soon  at  ease. 

**A  most  interesting  journey,"  he  agreed  cordi- 
ally. *^If  I  hadn't  got  this  Central  African  treatise 
to  finish,  I  should  think  about  going  with  you,  and 
over  the  Andes  into  Peru.  There  is  something 
above  Iquitos  that  I  have  always  wanted  to  look 


12  BLACK  GOLD 

into.  Perhaps  you  could  come  back  that  way;  you 
might  have  time  for  some  very  useful  investi- 
gations." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Channing  permitted  her- 
self to  speak;  her  rosy  face  had  taken  on  a  much 
deeper  tint.  **I  have  always  heard  that  that  is  a 
most  unhealthy  region.  ...  Of  course,  my  dear, 
you  will  do  as  you  please!  But  I  think  that  some 
inquiries " 

Margarita  hastily  recalled  scraps  of  her  lesson. 
**0h,  not  now,  Aunt  Kitty!  There  isu^t  any  yellow 
fever  any  more!  Truly,  Salvatore  says  so!  His 
friend's  been  living  there  four  years,  and  he's  all 
right.  He's  got  a  sister-in-law  staying  at  Helston 
with  her  children,  and  he's  going  to  see  her,  and 
Salvatore  and  Francie  got  him  to  come  here  with 
them  on  the  way. ' ' 

^*In  fact,  he  is  to  act  as  Exhibit  A  of  Amazonian 
salubrity,"  remarked  Arthur  Channing.  ^^How 
did  they  induce  him  to  come  here  to  display  his 
rude  health?" 

**He  didn't  want  to,  but  Francie  made  him.  I 
didn't  see  him,  but  she  says  he  is  an  awfully  good 
sort.  ...  I  think  he  is  going  on  the  same  boat  to 
Para  with  us.  Father,  I'll  bring  you  back  a  snake 
skin  forty  feet  long,"  the  girl  promised,  avoiding 
the  eye  of  Aunt  Kitty. 

*^Very  good  of  you,  Margie."  He  was  a  little 
absent-minded,  a  considering  light  in  his  eye. 
^*I'll  tell  you  what  you  really  might  do  for  me, 
if  you  get  the  chance.  Two  things,  in  fact.  I  should 
much  like  a  complete  series  of  the  rocky  pictures 
on  the  upper  Rio  Negro,  and  I  wish  you  would 
go  to  Obidos  and  make  inquiries  about  the  carved 
stone  pieces  that  Verissimo  says  he  found  there. 
Make  a  note  of  it,  will  you?  You  might  try  to  get 


BLACK  GOLD  13 

hold  of  some  other  specimens.  I'll  give  you  a  new 
camera  if  you'll  try  to  get  photographs,  even  if 
you  can't  get  the  things  themselves." 

She  agreed  cheerfully,  and  presently  escaped  to 
her  room,  where  the  ancient  brown  nurse  who  had 
come  years  ago  with  Arthur  Channing's  pretty 
bride  from  Lisbon  followed  her,  to  turn  up  the 
flame  of  the  big  oil  lamp — no  gas  or  electric  light 
had  yet  arrived  at  Sansoe — and  to  adjust  the 
blinds,  hang  up  the  discarded  clothes,  and  gen- 
erally to  hover  about  her  senhorita.  Margarita 
regretted  the  habit  of  the  house  that  had  forced 
Nair  to  learn  English  instead  of  obliging  the  chil- 
dren to  acquire  more  than  the  few  colloquial 
phrases  of  Portuguese  which  were  all  that  the 
young  Channings  possessed.  She  sat  on  the  bed 
and  let  the  old  woman  take  off  her  shoes. 

**At  least  my  ears  are  able  to  hear  Portuguese," 
she  said  to  herself,  and  out  loud  she  asked:  **Will 
you  come  with  me  if  I  go  with  Francina  on  a  long, 
long  journey  across  the  sea,  Nair?"  She  got  noth- 
ing but  a  deepening  of  the  thousand  wrinkles  on 
the  old  woman's  face,  that  meant  an  indulgent 
smile  for  these  tontarias,  gave  it  up,  and  remained, 
her  arms  on  the  footrail  of  the  bed,  musing.  She 
laughed  aloud  as  she  thought  again  of  her  father 
— that  had  been  easy,  at  least!  *'If  I  told  father 
that  I  was  going  to  the  North  Pole  next  week,  he 
would  say  it  was  a  good  idea,  and  then  he'd  ask 
me  to  try  out  a  new  kind  of  electric  ice  sledge,  or 
to  bring  him  back  a  white  bear's  left  toe-nail  or 
something,"  she  decided,  and  then  stayed,  dream- 
ing of  wide  sunny  spaces  and  a  great  river  with  a 
forest  full  of  flowers  down  to  its  lapping  edge 
until  voices  below  reminded  her  that  it  was  eight 
o'clock,   the   train   in,    and   her   sister    already 


14  BLACK  GOLD. 

arrived.  She  dressed  hurriedly,  slipping  into  3 
pale  green  summer  muslin  that  made  her  look  like 
a  wood  nymph,  and  ran  downstairs. 

On  the  landing  where  two  broad  stairways  met, 
ascending  from  right  and  left  of  the  halPs  end, 
she  stopped  for  a  moment,  looking  down.  By  the 
fire  stood  Francina,  her  face  irradiated  in  the 
glow  of  the  flames,  the  borrowed  furs  still  gracing 
her  pretty  shoulders;  she  was  talking  gaily  to  the 
group  before  her — ^her  stepmother  in  her  inevita- 
ble black  velvet  evening  dress,  her  father  and  Sal- 
vatore.  Salvatore's  arm  was  about  his  mother-in- 
law's  waist,  and  a  burst  of  laughter  came  up  the 
stairs  as  Margarita  stood  poised.  Beside  Salvatore 
stood  a  third  man,  rather  tall  and  slender,  in  a 
careless  attitude,  a  hand  in  a  pocket;  the  light 
struck  upon  a  singularly  fair,  well-brushed  head. 
This,  then,  must  be  John  Ware. 

At  that  moment,  as  if  aware  of  scrutiny,  the 
stranger  stirred,  moved  out  of  the  group  away 
from  the  fire,  turned  and  glanced  up  the  staircase. 
For  a  second  Margarita  looked  straight  into  clear, 
cool  eyes  before  he  drew  back  and  she  moved 
down  into  the  hall. 

During  dinner  and  the  hours  of  talk  that  fol- 
lowed, Salvatore  expounded  his  plans.  Financed 
in  the  first  instance  by  a  group  of  wealthy  men 
from  Brazil  ('*Para,  and  some  place  away  up  the 
river  with  a  hard  name — Man-aiz-os — no,  Man- 
owse,  that's  how  you  pronounce  if)  he  had  been 
invited  with  his  partner  to  take  an  opera  company 
to  the  Amazon.  **I've  got  two  thousand  pounds  in 
the  bank  this  minute.  They're  bursting  with 
money, and  they've  no  recreations,  you  understand 
me,  except  playing  dice  and  drinking  rum  or 
whatever    it    is."      To    somebody's    interjected 


BLACK  GOLD  15 

remark  about  '*a  nice  kind  of  environment/'  Sal- 
vatore  had  loudly  protested:  ** Certainly  they  are 
nice!  They're  just  lonely!  Anybody 'd  do  that 
sort  of  thing  if  they  were  left  alone  in  some  back- 
woods in  the  tropics." 

He  had  to  go  to  Italy  to  get  a  chorus  together — 
'^though  I  could  get  just  as  real  and  good-looking 
Italians  in  New  York,  off  Washington  Square,  and 
not  so  ridiculously  unsophisticated,  if  I  had  the 
time  to  go  across  and  get  them.  It's  looks  and 
level  heads,  as  well  as  voices,  that  I  want. ' ' 

**Dear  Salvie  can  never  forget  his  happy  youth 
in  the  purleius  of  New  York,"  Francina  had 
remarked. 

'^ Their  second  cable  said  we  needn't  bother 
about  voices  so  much  as  pretty  faces, ' '  he  went  on 
rashly.  **I  daresay  the  Amazon  would  be  just  as 
well  pleased  if  the  chorus  heads  were  empty,  but 
if  I  am  going  to  take  a  company  all  that  way  I 
mean  to  present  some  operas,  and  no  nonsense. 

Why,   the   last   company   that   went   there " 

Meeting  stares,  Salvatore  hastily  switched  from 
boggy  ground. 

Three  incidents  of  the  evening  remained  im- 
pressed upon  the  memory  of  Margarita.  The  first 
occurred  when  her  father,  developing  a  warm  en- 
thusiasm for  the  Amazonian  trip,  suggested  that 
Brooke  might  be  taken  in  the  party.  '^He  seems 
to  have  a  natural  bent  for  geology,  and  the  need 
for  commercial  geologists  is  just  beginning  to  be 
recognized.  If  you  could  find  somebody  who  would 
take  him  over  the  Andes,  you  see,  it  would  develop 
the  boy  and  do  him  a  lot  of  good."  Mrs.  Channing 
here  made  her  protest  against  the  dismemberment 
of  her  acquired  family. 

'*I  certainly  didn't  marry  Arthur  Channing  in 


16  BLACK  GOLD 

order  to  be  left  alone  in  the  house  with  him,"  she 
declared  smilingly  but  emphatically,  a  remark  that 
was  accepted  as  perfectly  reasonable  by  Arthur 
Channing  himself.  She  had  turned  to  Salvatore, 
always  a  great  favorite  of  hers  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  committed  the  crime  of  taking  one  of 
her  beloved  Channing  children  from  her,  and  said 
quietly  to  him:  '*It  was  bad  enough  for  Francie 
to  marry  you,  my  dear  boy,  without  your  going  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  with  Margarita  too.  .  .  .  The 
greatest  comfort  I  have  ever  had  in  my  life,  the 
only  piece  of  real  luck,  was  marrying  a  man  with 
a  ready-made  family.  I  only  wish  there  had  been 
eight  of  them  instead  of  four.  I  should  so  much 
have  liked  some  little  ones." 

It  struck  the  silent  Margarita,  sitting  by  Sal- 
vatore ^s  side,  that  this  sedate  and  persistent  affec- 
tion of  Aunt  Kitty's,  so  much  taken  for  granted, 
was  a  dreadfully  pathetic  thing;  she  averted  her 
head,  to  hear  the  stranger  giving  a  smiling  account 
of  himself,  in  reply  to  some  question  of  her 
father's.  No,  he  didn't  find  the  tropics  unhealthy, 
except  that  one  got  a  touch  of  malaria  now  and 
again;  but  that  wasn't  any  worse  than  a  bad  cold 
in  the  head  in  northern  climates.  People  should 
not  stay  too  long  in  one  place.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  he  had 
been  in  other  tropical  regions — Ceylon  and  the 
Straits  Settlements,  he  said,  and  then,  perhaps 
feeling  that  he  had  an  appearance  of  reserve, 
rather  briefly  explained  a  little  further: 

**My  father  had  a  tea  plantation  in  Ceylon,  a 
very  jolly  place  as  I  remember  it  as  a  small  boy. 
But  when  I  was  seven  or  so  they  sent  me  home  to 
school,  and  I  didn't  go  back  until  I  was  over 
twenty.  Then  I  made  a  two  years'  journey  all 
about  Malaysia,  Borneo  and  Java,  and  Sarawak, 


BLACK  GOLD  17 

and  so  on,  before  I  took  up  work  on  my  father's 
place/'  [He  stopped.] 

** Wasn't  tea  rather  badly  hitT' 

**Yes,  if  modem  methods  weren't  nsed  to  keep 
the  plantations  on  a  producing  level  with  India. 
But  the  trouble  was  that  many  of  the  older  easy- 
going planters  didn't  do  that,  and  then  let  their 
places  run  down  when  they  ceased  to  pay,  instead 
of  speeding  them  up."  Again,  with  what  seemed 
like  an  effort,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  courteous 
explanation,  and  after  a  few  seconds  went  on. 

**My  father  was  so  cut  up  about  things  that  he 
died,  eight  years  or  so  ago,  with  the  estate  so  deep 
in  debt  that  I  had  to  sell  the  house  and  part  of 
the  estate  in  order  to  keep  the  rest.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  give  it  all  up — it  is  in  a  ripping  situation, 
in  the  hill  and  valley  region  south  of  Haputale." 

^^Hardluck." 

He  disowned  claims  to  sympathy.  **Lots  of  men 
were  worse  hit.  The  only  thing  is,  I  have  a 
widowed  sister-in-law  who  is  a  good  deal  of  an 
invalid,  and  she  finds  a  cold  climate  trying.  She 
is  always  hoping  to  go  back  to  Ceylon. '"' 

'*But  if  you  are  on  the  Amazon  now?" 

''Well,  you  see,  I  kept  half  our  estate — and  we 
have  it  planted  with  something  else.  Rubber,  in 
fact.  And  that  takes  six  or  seven  years  to  come 
into  condition  for  tapping.  So  meanwhile  T 
thought  I  might  as  well  be  doing  something  else. 
A  young  cousin  of  mine  is  out  there  on  the  Cinga- 
lese place.  A  very  good  chap,  looking  after  things. 
The  place  paid  its  way  with  catch  crops  of  bana- 
nas and  pineapples  this  year. ' ' 

The  entry  of  the  sweets  making  a  trifling  diver- 
sion at  this  moment,  the  guest  stopped  again,  and 
it  was  under  cover  of  Francina's  argument  with 


18  BLACK  GOLD 

her  father  as  to  whether  she  would  or  wonld  not 
personally  test  the  bite  of  the  piranha  ('* Dearest 
father,  my  legs  are  precious  to  me,  if  not  to  you'') 
that  Margarita  turned  to  her  neighbor: 

^*You  didn't  say  why  you  went  to  the  Amazon, 
though." 

He  gave  her  a  quick,  peculiar  look,  almost 
startled,  almost  defensive,  before  he  answered 
with  apparent  frankness: 

**  Naturally  I  am  interested  in  rubber,  as  I  have 
a  small  plantation,  and  the  Amazon  is  its  native 
home,  of  course.  The  eastern  plantations  are  alien 
immigrants. ' ' 

Channing  heard  this  and  remarked:  *^Yes,  it's 
like  the  transportation  of  the  coffee  industry  to 
Brazil,  in  her  southern  states,  isn't  it?  Trans- 
ferences of  whole  industries  .  .  .  there  must  be  an 
enormous  difference  in  Ceylon  1 ' ' 

**A11  the  difference  between  any  highly  organ- 
ized industry  and  one  which  is  hardly  more  than 
the  work  of  independent  amateurs.  I  don't  mean 
the  marketing  part — there  the  whole  world's 
organized.  But  the  actual  base.  ...  On  one  hand 
you  have  great  dense  forests,  pierced  only  by 
rivers,  unhealthy,  with  the  rubber  trees  in  the  pro- 
portion, often,  of  one  to  fifty  other  kinds  of  trees. 
The  laborers  don't  work  for  wages,  and  ar^prac- 
tically  their  own  masters,  except  that  they  are 
always  deep  in  debt  to  the  middleman  who  fitted 
them  out;  they  work  solitary,  often  fall  sick  and 
die  without  anyone  knowing  about  it,  in  their 
huts  in  the  forest.  And  then  in  contrast  we  have 
huge  plantations  closely  planted  with  the  one  tree; 
organized  bands  of  hired  men  working  under  con- 
stant supervision;  scientific  methods  in  prepara- 
tion of  the  gum  for  the  markets.  Nothing  is  left 
to  chance." 


BLACK  GOLD  19 

"It  doesn't  seem  as  if  the  Amazon  could  survive 
in  competition  .  .  /' 

"Yes,  because  after  all  it  does  produce  the  best 
rubber. '^  He  said  this  with  a  final  air  and  turned 
to  Mrs.  Channing  with  a  question  about  Cornish 
cream — a  subject  that  always  lighted  the  spark 
of  battle  in  her  eye.  But  Margarita,  whose  inter- 
est in  rubber  was  confined  to  ink  erasers  and  wad- 
ing boots  and  waterproofs,  retained  within  her 
memory,  nevertheless,  the  curious  look  that  the 
stranger  had  given  her  when  she  asked  her  idle 
question. 

The  third  impression  was  made  by  Francina, 
who  came  to  her  sister's  room  after  good  nights 
had  been  said,  radiant,  delighted  that  possible 
family  objections  to  the  fantastic  enterprise  had 
been  so  easily  vanquished.  She  took  a  candle  and 
held  it  below  the  picture  of  their  mother,  regard- 
ing the  exquisite  face  with  intense  interest.  "Ah, 
our  angel  mother!"  she  cried  to  Margarita,  facile 
tears  in  here  eyes.  "How  much  more  beautiful  she 
was  than  either  you  or  me,  and  yet — if  she  had 
only  had  my  head!  You  must  be  very  careful 
about  your  future,  Margie!  To  have  beauty  and 
no  discrimination — what  a  disaster!  I  often  think 
that  lovely  women  ought  to  be  immured  in  con- 
vents between  the  ages  of  six  and  twenty,  and 
either  taught  nothing  at  all,  and  their  future  ar- 
ranged for  them  by  some  clever  uncle,  or  else 
drilled  into  understanding  that  beauty  is  the  only 
thing  in  the  world  that  can  get  everything  it 
wants,  if  it  knows  how." 

She  closed  her  lips  and  stood  brooding  for  a 
minute;  then  kissed  Margarita  hastily  and  went 
away. 


DIRECTLY  after  a  hurried  and  early  lunch 
next  day,  Margarita  went  to  the  little  room 
off  the  hall  where  the  Channing  family  kept  an 
assortment  of  cricket  bats,  tennis  rackets,  fishing 
rods  and  other  tackle,  oars,  sou 'westers,  leggings, 
sticks,  and  outdoor  clothes.  She  took  a  light 
sweater,  pulled  a  tam-o'-shanter  over  her  head, 
whistled  to  her  too-fat  terrier,  and  went  out  by 
a  door  opening  on  to  the  terrace.  Climbing  the 
low  stone  wall,  she  crossed  the  bare  rose  garden 
and  set  her  face  to  the  moor.  It  was  an  afternoon 
as  warm  as  high  summer,  the  country  flooded  with 
golden  light,  soft  billows  and  pearly  clouds  massed 
like  mountains  on  the  horizon.  As  she  emerged 
on  to  the  road  she  came  face  to  face  with  John 
Ware. 

**Are  you  going  for  a  walk?  May  I  come  with 
you?" 

For  a  moment  she  was  inclined  to  say  no;  she 
wanted  to  be  alone,  to  escape  for  a  little  while 
from  all  this  endless  discussion,  to  spend  a  few 
hours  with  her  beloved  moors  before  she  had  to 
part  with  them.  And  this  was  a  stranger.  But 
looking  into  his  face  she  found  some  quality  that 
subtracted  strangeness,  melted  her  defense;  she 
liked  his  rather  long,  fair  face,  his  close-lipped, 
clear-eyed  quietude,  his  air  of  ironical  cool  sweet- 
ness. Here  was  something  serene  and  kind,  secure 
and  comradely.  She  smiled  at  him:  **I  am  going 
a  long  way,  and  perhaps  in  your  tropics  you  have 
forgotten  how  to  walk." 

20 


BLACK  GOLD  ^     21 

** Perhaps.  But  try  me/'  He  turned  to  her  side 
and  they  walked  in  silence  for  a  minute. 

'*I'll  tell  you  what  I  thought  of  doing,"  she 
told  him  presently,  as  they  reached  the  highway. 
**The  moors  near  here  are  not  high  enough  for 
me  to-day;  I  wanted  to  get  up  into  the  wind.  I 
thought  I'd  take  the  two-ten  train  and  get  off  at 
a  little  place  I  know  at  the  foot  of  those  hills-— 
over  there — and  climb  to  the  top  of  a  favorite 
tor  of  mine.  Would  you  really  like  to  come?" 

He  would. 

The  coming  train  was  already  whistling  as  they 
crossed  the  Sansoe  stream,  and  they  had  to  walk 
fast  up  the  opposite  slope  toward  the  little  rail- 
way station,  only  slowing  down  as  they  walked  on 
to  the  gravelled  platform.  *^You  are  not  pant- 
ing! I  don't  believe  you  are  badly  out  of  training; 
we  did  that  half  mile  in  eight  minutes,"  she  in- 
formed him,  and  he  took  license  from  her  scrutiny 
to  take  rapid  stock  of  her  in  turn. 

'** She's  a  bewitching  girl,  almost  beautiful,"  he 
decided.  *^She  has  a  delicious  little  proud  head, 
and  a  real  air  of  race.  I  like  her  slimness  and 
transparent  skin.  Those  long  gray-blue  eyes  are 
charming,  and  what  exquisite  eyebrows !  And  the 
way  her  hair  grows  thick  on  her  forehead  and  on 
her  golden  neck  ...  an  elusive  creature,  somehow, 
too." 

She  walked  like  a  boy,  taking  long  steps  in  her 
short  serge  skirt,  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of  her 
blue  sweater.  She  belonged  out  of  doors,  he  said 
to  himself;  she  was  a  different  and  more  radiant 
being  than  when  she  was  in  the  house,  her  ranging 
eyes  and  light  voice  confined  to  the  limits  of  four 
walls.  In  the  train  he  said  to  her:  **I  don't  know 
your  haunted  country.   I  have  only  seen  it  once 


22  BLACK  GOLD 

before,  two  or  three  years  ago.  I  spent  nearly  all 
my  English  years  in  Surrey,  and  then  in  Cam- 
bridge, and  a  year  in  the  Liverpool  tropical  school, 
you  know.  But  I  love  Surrey  and  all  heather 
countries;  it's  the  elixir  of  life  to  me.'' 

^*How  do  you  know  it's  haunted?" 

**It  has  the  air  of  it.  The  breeze  seems  to  blow 
from  some  remote  land,  some  enchanted  place  of 
the  winds;  and  then,  the  long  flowing  lines  of 
purple  moorland,  veiling  their  horizons  in  mists, 
always  seem  as  if  they  might  lead  to  some  strange 
end  that  you  can't  guess.  The  stones,  too;  haven't 
you  got  any  stone  circles  or  avenues  about  here? 
I  should  always  be  afraid  of  offending  the  old 
gods  if  I  trod  near  them." 

She  shook  her  head.  **0h,  no!  That's  only  be- 
cause you  don't  know  them.  So  long  as  you  are 
respectful,  and  love  them,  it's  all  right.  And  the 
moor — it's  a  kind  of  cousin  of  mine,  I  think.  I'm 
very  friendly  with  it.  I  have  grown  up  with  it .  . . 
here  we  are." 

Leaving  the  line  of  railway,  they  walked  inland, 
following  a  sandy  road  deeply  rutted  in  the 
middle;  upon  the  margins  little  heather  bushes 
grew  thickly,  with  the  deeper-hued  bells  of  ling 
between  them,  like  an  amethyst  carpet.  Here  and 
there  were  darker  patches  of  gorse  that,  when 
close  at  hand,  displayed  sweet-scented,  bright  yel- 
low flowers  set  among  the  mass  of  prickles. 

The  road  descended  sharply  and  then  began  to 
soar  upwards,  following  the  crest  of  a  long  spur. 
Soft  winds  came  in  gusts  blowing  sweet  over  the 
empty  moors;  the  sky  was  a  pearly  blue  bowl,  and 
pale  sunlight  lay  in  floods  upon  the  wide  sheets 
of  purple.  Nothing  broke  the  long  lines  but  the 
heads  of  the  distant  tors. 


BLACK  GOLD  23 

After  walking  for  an  hour  on  the  upper  moor- 
land, upon  roads  that  were  little  more  than  sheep 
tracks,  they  clambered  up  among  tumbled  rocks, 
slippery  with  wet  moss,  to  the  top  of  Tregennen 
Tor.  This,  topping  the  long  rise,  was  a  fantastic 
pile  of  huge  stones,  slabs,  apparently  heaped  one 
upon  the  other  by  some  whimsical  giant.  Sitting 
down  to  rest  for  a  few  moments,  the  climbers 
looked  down  upon  a  sea  of  purple.  Margarita, 
pushing  away  her  wheezing  terrier,  took  tenderly 
from  her  pocket  the  little  collection  of  plants  for 
which  she  had  left  the  path  now  and  again  as  they 
ascended.  She  spread  them  upon  her  lap  and 
showed  Ware  gravely  the  bright  rosette  of  sun- 
dew, its  transparent  crimson  fingers  tipped  with 
crystal  drops;  the  white  flags  of  bog  cotton,  hung 
upon  frail  wire  stems;  a  belated  spray  of  whortle- 
berries. 

*^A  queer  thing  about  these  moors  is  that  some- 
times the  higher  you  get  the  marshier  it  is,''  she 
told  him.  *^I  think  it's  because  the  clouds  swing 
so  low,  and  soak  into  the  ground  for  half  the 
year  ..." 

He  meditated,  perhaps  in  a  rather  sentimental 
mood.  **If  it  wasn't  for  the  memory  of  moors  and 
marshes  and  woods  in  spring,  one  couldn't  live  in 
the  tropics.  I  can  shut  my  eyes  any  day  in  Manaos 
and  feel  my  feet  on  thick  grass,  and  smell  roses. 
It  doesn't  matter  to  you  so  much,  because  you  are 
only  going  for  a  few  months'  adventure,  and  if 
you  are  homesick  you  can  pack  up  and  come  back. 
But  I  have  to  just  soak  all  this  into  me." 

**Why  do  you  stay  in  the  tropics?" 

^  ^  To  finish  something  I  have  begun.  To  succeed. 
And  partly,  too,  to  make  some  money.  Of  course, 
I  could  live  at  home  on  a  fev/  hundreds  a  year, 


24  BLACK  GOLD 

but  there's  my  sister-in-law  and  her  kiddies  to 
consider.'' 

*' You  could  probably  make  some  money  in  Lon- 
don or  Manchester  if  that  was  all  you  wanted." 

**0h,  no  I  Cities  like  that  would  be  impossible. 
Much  worse  than  the  Amazon.  Bricks  and  pave- 
ments and  black  coats.  Much  worse!  There  at 
least  is  something  wild  and  unenslaved,  to  balance 
the  commercial  struggle.  That  exists:  you  fight 
for  money  there  just  the  same  as  in  London  or 
Hamburg  or  Chicago.  But  it's  at  least  not  tame, 
not  confined.  .  .  .  English  moors  and  woods  must 
have  sent  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  into  the 
jungle  and  desert  and  arctic  ice  fields!  You  can't 
bear  cities  if  you  have  once  loved  trees.  Isn't  it 
strange  how  in  a  little  island  like  this  there's  so 
much  wild  nature,  and  one  lives  so  near  the  soil? 
You'll  realize  this  some  day,  if  you  have  to  live  in 
some  new  commercial  country  where  cities  are  all 
planked  down  upon  some  dull  and  roadless  plain 
and  there  are  no  roads  outside,  no  movement 
except  by  train." 

She  gave  him  a  beautiful  smile.  **Yes,  perhaps. 
Now,  what  shall  we  do  next?  You  have  to  catch 
the  train  at  seven-thirty,  haven't  you?  It's  about 
half -past  three  now.  There's  lots  of  time;  we  can't 
get  a  train  back  to  Sansoe  until  nearly  six.  Let's 
see  if  we  can  find  a  farm  where  they'd  make  tea 
for  us.  I  think  there 's  a  little  farmhouse  down  in 
that  fold,  over  the  road  and  down  the  combe,  on 
the  other  side,  where  the  trees  are  thick ;  you  can 't 
see  it  from  here.  I  haven't  ever  been  there,  but  I 
often  go  down  the  valley  on  this  side  to  something 
that  there  is — it's  a  secret,  but  I'll  tell  you  if 
you'll  promise  never  to  let  any  guidebook  person 
know.  It's  a  stone  circle  that  isn't  on  the  maps. 


BLACK  GOLD  25 

It's  a  very  low  one,  and  the  stones  are  all  deep  in 
bracken  and  heather.  Will  you  come  and  make 
obeisance  to  my  godsT' 

**I  think  I'd  better  keep  at  a  safe  distance.  I 
tell  you  what  we'd  better  do.  I'll  take  you  down 
and  leave  you  to  your  incantations,  and  I'll  go  on 
to  the  farm  and  coerce  them  into  tea." 

*'A11  right.  I  daresay  there's  a  fierce  farmer's 
wife  who  would  need  coaxing.  And  there  is  cer- 
tain to  be  a  dog  who  would  fight  my  poor  old 
Nero.    Get  him  tied  up,  won't  you?" 

**It  would  do  Nero  good  to  fight  now  and 
again, ' '  declared  the  rash  young  man,  but  quailed 
beneath  the  eye  of  the  maiden.  Descending  the 
hillside,  they  crossed  the  road  at  its  foot  and  saw 
from  it  the  deep  valley  below,  half  in  shadow,  a 
sweet  and  secret  nook,  the  precipitous  sides 
clothed  in  glowing  purple  and  yellow  and  brown; 
a  little  stream  shone  in  its  depths,  blue  where  the 
sun  was  mirrored  in  it,  dark  brown  where  fern  and 
blackberries  drooped  over  it,  lace-white  where  it 
raced  at  and  over  the  stones  that  lay  in  its  path. 
At  the  farther  end  of  the  gorge,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  brook,  slept  a  little  wood — no,  it  must 
be  an  orchard.  There  was  a  certain  orderliness  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  trees,  and  a  glint  of  color 
that  suggested  apples.  Between  their  ranks  ap- 
peared the  gray  roof  of  a  little  house,  and  as  Ware 
looked,  fixing  the  location  in  his  mind  before  be- 
ginning the  descent  among  these  deep  and  track- 
less masses  of  thick  heather  and  fern,  he  traced 
the  green  line  of  the  hedge,  the  gleam  of  a  white 
gate.  He  saw,  drifting  blue  against  the  dark  trees, 
a  thin  wisp  of  smoke. 

They  followed  at  first  a  narrow  track  that 
seemed  to  lead  direct  to  the  brook  below,  soon 


26  BLACK  GOLD 

lost  it,  and  plunged  deep  into  heather  bushes,  tall 
rust-brown  bracken  that  stood  shoulder  high,  and 
scraped  their  clothes  on  the  golden  gorse.  They 
waded  in  a  sea  of  sturdy  moorland  bushes,  avoid- 
ing only  the  bright  light-green  spots  that  meant 
bog. 

When  they  were  about  two-thirds  of  the  way 
down,  the  ground  less  steep,  Margarita  stopped. 
''There  is  my  stone  circle!"  And  showed  her  com- 
panion a  block  of  hewn  granite,  a  few  yards  to 
her  left,  set  deep  in  honey-scented  ling,  and 
adorned  with  orange-hued  lichens.  She  pointed 
out  the  tops  of  other  stones  in  the  neighborhood: 
**Now  I  am  going  to  evoke  my  ancient  gods,  and 
ask  them  to  see  me  safe  into  the  hands  of  your 
South  American  deities,''  she  cried.  *'But  I  am 
awfully  thirsty — do  go  and  use  your  blandish- 
ments upon  the  farm  lady!'' 

**You  can  follow  me  in  ten  minutes,  and  if  they 
have  got  a  teapot,  it  shall  be  steaming  for  you," 
he  promised  her. 

*'If !  All  our  Cornish  girls  are  ruining  their  com- 
plexions with  tea  all  day  long,  like  the  Irish! 
Father  says  they'd  better  drink  potheen,"  she 
informed  him. 

Ware,  leaving  her,  reached  an  open  grassy  slope 
immediately  before  the  brook,  but  found  that  the 
water  was  deeper  than  he  had  imagined,  running 
swift  and  clear  over  a  stony  bed,  and  too  wide  to 
jump  across  at  this  point.  But  looking  towards  the 
farmhouse  he  saw  that  a  line  of  stepping-stones 
crossed  the  water  at  a  point  opposite  the  thick 
orchard,  and  so  made  his  way  towards  them 
through  the  denser  bushes  by  the  margin.  Encoun- 
tering a  patch  of  small  thorny  trees  that  needed 
careful,  negotiation,  he  went  out  of  his  way  to 


BLACK  GOLD  27 

avoid  the  worst  part  of  the  thicket;  when  he  had 
passed  it,  and  had  come  back  to  the  water,  the 
close-set  trees  of  the  little  orchard  were  directly 
before  him,  just  across  the  stream  that  here  was 
wider  and  shallower,  dancing  with  a  musical 
sound  among  the  stones  strewn  in  its  channel. 

After  all,  the  stepping-stones  had  scarcely  been 
arranged;  they  were  but  loosely  scattered  about 
the  shallower  part  of  the  water,  and  Ware  criti- 
cized for  a  moment  the  farmer's  lack  of  care  for 
his  family 's  comfort  as  he  picked  a  precarious  way 
to  the  farther  bank,  and  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
house. 

At  once  he  said  to  himself  that  he  must  have 
curiously  mistaken  the  direction  while  approach- 
ing, for  here  was  no  orchard,  but  a  small  wild  wood 
of  dwarf  oaks  and  thorns.  The  farmhouse  must 
lie  beyond  them.  Or  perhaps  wood  and  garden 
were  mated  in  common  shelter.  He  skirted  the 
dense  trees,  looking  between  them  for  the  house. 

There,  running  down  to  the  brook,  was  the  green 
hedge  and  the  gate  surely?  But  near  at  hand  the 
hedge  resolved  itself  into  nothing  but  clumps  of 
gorse  and  briars — and  was  it  possible  that  this 
stone  had  appeared  like  a  wicket?  And  that  there 
really  was  none?  Oh,  no!  He  had  seen  it!  The 
house  must  lie  behind  the  next  group  of  trees  .  .  . 
but  it  did  not.  Walking  along  the  edge  of  the 
brook  that  the  garden  had  seemed  to  meet,  he 
saw  his  orchard  dissolve  into  clumps  of  small  oaks, 
his  cottage  into  a  twisted  pile  of  gray  rocks.  Noth- 
ing else  was  there.  He  came  out  at  the  farther 
border  of  the  wood,  astounded  but  still  obstinate, 
and,  climbing  upon  a  steep  point  of  granite  that 
projected  near  by,  peered  as  closely  as  he  could 
into  the  trees. 


28  BLACK  GOLD 

As  he  looked,  his  eyes  caught  the  vanishing  trail 
of  a  wisp  of  smoke  and  he  heard  a  little,  sharp 
sound — like  the  wail  of  a  very  young  baby;  the 
house  was  there,  then!  In  the  very  heart  of  the 
wood.  Locating  as  precisely  as  he  could  the  spot 
where  it  must  stand,  he  plunged  right  into  the 
trees.  But  as  he  entered  them  they  seemed  to 
divide,  to  spread  out  thinly,  so  that  the  sunlight 
struck  through  every  part  of  them;  the  woods  dis- 
integrated, sparse  and  open,  the  trees  interspersed 
with  big  tumbled  blocks  of  moss-grown  stone.  He 
climbed  all  about  the  spot,  searching  it,  going 
down  to  the  water's  edge  and  hunting  among  the 
willow-herbs  and  tall  reeds  and  meadowsweet, 
trying  to  find  some  sign;  a  footprint  or  the  flutter 
of  a  fleeing  petticoat  would  have  satisfied  him. 
For  even  after  he  had  had  to  admit  that  the  curi- 
ous juxtaposition  of  bushes  and  stones  had 
deceived  him — and  misled,  too,  the  moor-wise 
Margarita — that  they  had  created  an  illusion,  he 
still  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  feeling  that  the 
place  was,  or  had  recently  been,  inhabited. 

It  was  warm  with  humanity;  this  was  no  raw 
and  desolate  spot.  It  had  the  breathing  spirit  of 
an  inhabited  region.  In  contrast  to  the  wild  lone- 
liness of  the  moor,  where  sky  and  land  met  in  an 
endless  ring  of  solitude,  this  spot  was  instinct  with 
the  intimate  kindliness  of  a  homo.  He  strained  his 
ears  for  the  inevitable  sounds  that  some  con- 
spiracy of  the  moor  kept  from  him;  the  silence 
had  a  suspended  stealth.  Once  or  twice  he  was 
sure  that  he  heard  whispering  and  a  hushed  laugh 
from  behind  a  bush. 

He  beat  the  wood  thoroughly  before  he  gave  up 
his  idea.  Then,  recrossing  the  stepping-stones,  he 
made  his  way  back  along  the  bank,  and  met  Mar- 
garita by  the  thicket. 


BLACK  GOLD  29 

''Well,  they  haven't  got  a  teapot,"  he  said, 
watching  her  face  warily. 

''Haven't  got  a  teapot!"  she  stared  at  him, 
with,  he  decided,  quite  new  and  genuine  surprise. 
She  went  on:  "I  saw  you  walking  in  the  garden — 
weren't  you  speaking  to  some  one  there T' 

It  was  his  turn  to  stare.  "Are  you  sure  you 
could  see  the  garden — and  the  house?  Do  you 
know  just  where  it  stands?" 

Still  surprised,  she  replied  at  once :  "Of  course ! 
I  can  walk  straight  to  the  front  door."  She  hur- 
ried to  the  edge  of  the  stream,  crossed  the  step- 
ping-stones with  the  sure  step  of  a  mountain  goat, 
and  went  towards  the  wood,  hesitating  a  little  and 
slowing  down  as  she  neared  it  and  began  to  look 
about.  John  sat  down  on  a  boulder  by  the  brook's 
edge,  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  waited  for  her.  She 
came  back  in  a  few  minutes  and  frowned  per- 
plexedly at  him. 

"That's  odd.  I  can't  find  the  way  to  it.  Explain 
tome!  What  did  ?/ot*  find?" 

"Nothing.  There  isn't  anything  or  anybody. 
I  made  quite  sure. ' '  They  laughed  out  loud. 

"Well,  we  didn't  get  any  tea,"  she  said. 

"It's  queer  that  you,  a  moor  maid,  should  have 
been  deceived  as  much  as  I,  an  uninitiated 
forasteiro,  I  wasn't  quite  sure  at  first  that  you 
:iad  not  put  a  spell  on  me,"  he  said.  They  climbed 
the  hill  in  silence,  she  meekly  letting  him  help  her 
.ip  rough  and  slippery  places.  At  the  brow  of  the 
lill  she  stopped,  hot  and  a  little  breathless,  turned 
'o  look  down,  and  suddenly  caught  Ware's  arm. 

"But  look!  There  is  something  there!  It  is  a 
house! — ^Why,  I  can  see  the  smoke — look!" 

He  looked  down  and  saw  the  patch  of  wood 
again  resolved  into  the  semblance  of  ordered 
ranks,  the  dim  outlines  of  house  walls  between 


30  BLACK  GOLD 

them,  and  heard,  borne  upon  the  ascending  honey- 
laden  gust,  a  faint  sound  like  the  wail  of  a  very- 
young  child. 

They  stood  motionless,  hand  in  hand,  for  some 
moments,  until  at  last  she  said  seriously:  **It  is  a 
house  of  faery."  She  turned  a  flushed  face  upon 
him,  her  eyes  dark,  her  lips  parted  childishly. 

**At  least  we  seem  to  share  it,''  he  responded 
gently,  and  they  stood  looking  at  each  other  with 
intent  inquiry,  as  if  to  discover  a  mystery,  as  if 
seeking  for  some  mutual  secret.  A  sudden  idea 
took  possession  of  John  "Ware  that  this  young 
thing,  this  bright  slip  of  a  country  girl,  with  her 
look  of  wonder,  was  beloved  now  and  always. 
Moved  by  impulse,  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips 
and  at  that  she,  by  no  means  embarrassed  (you 
couldn't  embarrass  a  wood  nymph),  broke  into 
smiles  that  cooled  him.  She  turned  to  the  road. 

I  think  that  John  Ware  loved  her  from  that 
time,  although  certainly  without  any  thought  of 
rousing  love  in  her;  to  his  vision  she  belonged  to 
another  world,  dancing  on  the  edge  of  a  realm 
that  was  out  of  mental  and  physical  touch  with 
the  serious  and  difficult  task  to  which  he  was  com- 
mitted. But  he  saw  her  as  a  dear  and  sweet  child, 
an  adorable  creature,  probably  destined  to  some 
brilliant  future  in  which  he  would  never  have  a 
share.  They  had  at  least  this  one  thing  in  common, 
this  partnership  in  the  house  of  faery,  this 
witchery  of  the  moor. 

They  walked  to  the  station  in  a  soft  afterglow 
that  gave  the  heather  a  bright  regal  splendor, 
dying  away  to  shrouded  dusk.  Arrived  at  Sansoe, 
Ware  had  scarcely  time  to  drink  the  belated  tea 
that  Aunt  Kitty  had  kept,  and  to  return  to  the 
railway  to  take  the  west-bound  train. 


in 

FROM  that  day  preparations  went  forward 
steadily.  Francina,  going  back  with  Salva- 
tore  to  the  London  boarding  house  where  they 
lived  rather  precariously,  paying  bills  whenever 
a  slice  of  luck  supervened,  borrowed  a  sewing 
machine  and  sat  all  day  surrounded  by  chiffons. 
A  hard  worker  when  she  had  any  interest  in  work- 
ing, although  hating  anyone  to  know  it  and  con- 
sistently affecting  idle-princess  airs  in  public,  she 
now  scarcely  raised  her  head  from  her  dainty 
seams  except  to  study  a  score.  She  sang  arias 
lightly  as  she  cut  and  stitched. 

Dowered  with  a  good  contralto  voice  of  sus- 
tained quality  and  fair  range,  her  sound  early 
training  had  been  ceaselessly  supplemented  by 
Salvatore  during  their  four  years  of  marriage. 
She  had  constantly  sung  small  parts  in  provincial 
recitals  and  traveling  companies,  and,  while  Mar- 
garita's light  and  flexible  soprano  outclassed  her 
sister's  voice  in  natural  beauty,  Francina 's  feet 
were  already  accustomed  to  the  boards  while  the 
younger  girl  was  nothing  but  a  rank  although 
promising  amateur. 

They  were  to  sail  just  before  Christmas.  Sal- 
vatore, returning  from  a  hasty  visit  to  Italy,  look- 
ing over  the  field  for  a  cheap  but  efficient  company, 
was  triumphant  and  a  little  boastful.  He  ran- 
sacked England  now  for  second  hand  scenery  * '  at 
a  reasonable  rate,"  for  most  of  the  drops  as  well 
as  important  equipment  and  accessories  would 

31 


32  BLACK  GOLD 

have  to  be  taken  to  the  Amazon.  You  eould  de- 
pend upon  faking  up  garden  scenes  and  ordinary 
interiors  locally,  but  it  was  just  as  well  to  remem- 
ber that  even  canvas  and  paint  might  not  be  avail- 
able in  unlimited  quantities.  After  all,  the  place 
was  a  thousand  miles  up  the  river,  and  the  rivef 
was  four  or  five  thousand  miles  from  paint  shops. 

This  question  of  scenery,  plus  the  even  more 
agitated  one  of  costumes,  offered  rocks  for  the 
opera  program.  But  it  was  not  until  the  final 
decision  could  be  averted  no  longer  that  Salvatore 
called  a  council. 

Margarita,  spending  a  week  in  town  with  Aunt 
Kitty,  shopping  joyfully,  walked  in  one  foggy 
afternoon  upon  the  consultation.  A  somewhat 
ruffled  group,  whose  storm  center  was  Salvatore, 
sat  about  a  large  table,  covered  with  a  mass  of 
operatic  scores,  lists,  sheets  of  paper,  and  tele- 
gram forms.  He  screamed  at  Margarita  as  she 
came  forward: 

**  Margie,  you  will  have  to  be  second  violin, 
leading  soprano,  and  premiere  danseuse.  How's 
thatr' 

'^And  dresser  and  sceneshifter  probably," 
murmured  Francina,  sitting  at  a  safe  distance 
from  her  husband. 

** Anything  you  like,''  declared  the  girl.  **What 
in  the  world  are  you  all  doing?" 

**  Preparing  plans  for  the  siege  of  the  Amazon, 
my  darling,"  her  brother-in-law  assured  her. 
*^Come  here  and  sit  by  me  and  tell  me  what  you 
think  of  this."  He  took  up  a  scribbled  sheet. 
**You  see,  we've  only  got  a  couple  of  thousand 
pounds  in  advance  from  our  friends  across  the 
Atlantic,  so  we  have  to  go  a  bit  easy  on  extrava- 
gances.   Francina  says  she  could  spend  all  that 


BLACK  GOLD  33 

two  thousand  on  clothes  for  herself,  but  I  say  that 
she  and  you  can  have  sixty  pounds  between  you 
and  not  a  penny  more.  I  have  to  have  scenery, 
don't  If"  He  began  to  get  a  little  worked  up.  **Do 
I  or  don't  I?"  he  asked  the  company.  '* Don't  I 
have  to  go  back  to  Italy  and  drag  out  of  the  gutters 
or  some  mangy  boarding  house  a  dozen  of  the  best- 
looking  girls  I  can  get  cheap?  Don't  I?  Don't  I 
have  to  have  some  money  to  get  their  clothes  out 
of  pawn?  And  to  have  them  all  bathed  and 
scrubbed  and  buy  them  a  change  of  underwear? 
Good  God,  what's  two  thousand  pounds,  I  ask 
you?" 

As  he  addressed  the  table,  Salvatore  gradually 
grew  hotter,  until  perspiration  stood  upon  his 
forehead;  he  waved  the  paper  with  one  hand  and 
with  the  other  grasped  Margarita's  arm  and 
shook  it.  His  voice  filled  the  room. 

'^You're  quite  right,  Salvie,"  she  said  sooth- 
ingly, smiling  upon  him  with  candid  eyes.  He  sub- 
sided a  little. 

**Very  well.  You  always  did  have  a  grain  or 
two  of  sense  and  sympathy,  Margie!"  He  glared 
about  him.  **Yery  good.  Now  let's  see  just 
where  we  stand.  First,  what  are  we  going  to 
present?  .  .  .  'Carmen' they  must  have,  although 
God  knows  where  I  am  going  to  get  the  scenery 
and  the  clothes:  think  of  hauling  it  seven  thou- 
sand miles  and  then  another  thousand  up  the 
Amazon.  I  am  going  to  cable  them  that  it  can't 
be  done.  But  who  ever  heard  of  a  tenth-rate  opera 
that  didn't  give  'Carmen'?   If  we  were  going  to 

be  any  class  we  might  have  the  pluck  not  to " 

He  wiped  his  forehead. 

*'Very  well.  There's  no  difficulty  about  the 
parts,  it's  only  the  staging  and  dressing.    Why, 


34  BLACK  GOLD 

you  conld  sing  Carmen  at  a  pinch,  Margarita.  Put 
down  'Carmen';  we  shall  have  to  give  it,  even  if 
we  don't  have  any  decent  scenery.  Now,  *I1  Tro- 
vatore' — what  do  you  all  think?  It's  easy,  and 
so's  'Marta.T' 

He  regarded  the  faces  before  him.  Bianca  San- 
tana,  swarthy,  very  handsome,  his  principal  con- 
tralto, sat  with  her  eyes  shut;  she  had  known  him 
for  years,  and  took  no  notice  of  his  pretense  at 
temper. 

**A11  right.  We'll  put  down  those  two.  Every- 
body in  South  America  knows  'Trovatore'  by 
heart,  anyway,  so  if  my  company  can't  sing,  the 
audience  will.  Next,  the  '  Cavalleria, '  of  course. 
There's  no  costuming  in  that;  you  could  wear  your 
petticoats,  girls,  and  a  red  handkerchief.  .  .  . 
Now,  about  'Tosca,'  that  takes  dressing  and  sing- 
ing too " 

At  this  point  Margarita  interrupted  him. 
*' Who's  your  principal  soprano?" 

He  groaned  aloud.  *'If  only  you  were  trained 
enough,  Margie!  I  suppose  I  must  get  that  evil- 
tempered,  stupid,  conceited,  lazy  little  cat  of  a 
Beatriz  Sforzi.  She  knows  how  to  sing,  although 
she  hasn't  half  the  voice  she  ought  to  have,  and 
she  looks  well  from  the  front.  She  will  quarrel 
with  everybody,  of  course,  and  she  will  raise  the 
devil  generally.  That's  why  she  is  out  of  a  job 
just  now.  I  hate  the  sight  of  her.  But  there  you 
are — she  knows  her  business,  and  she'll  travel 
without  grumbling  till  she  gets  to  the  hotel,  any- 
how. That  girl  was  bom  on  the  stage  and  she'll 
die  on  it,  mark  my  words.  She's  in  Paris  this 
minute,  and  if  Laroche  can't  rope  her  in  I  must." 

Laroche,  a  pale  and  slim  young  man  with  melan- 
choly eyes  and  black  hair  en  brosse,  uttered  a 
groan. 


BLACK  GOLD  35 

*'You  don't  want  me  to  travel  with  her,  I 
hopeT'  said  Francina  frostily.  He  cast  down  his 
eyes.  ''Certainly  not.  Not  the  Atlantic  trip,  any- 
way. Don't  you  worry.  I  wouldn't  have  her  on 
the  same  boat  as  any  of  the  other  principals  for 
sixteen  days.  I  know  very  well  there's  no  living 
with  that  girl.  No,  I  think  we  can  decide  now — 
can't  we? — that  Laroche  will  bring  all  the  conti- 
nental party  in  the  Italian  boat  sailing  Boxing 
Day." 

Laroche  nodded.  ''The  two  violinists  from 
Eome — the  first  violin  conducts,  doesn't  he? — and 
the  trombone  and  flute  and  two  others  .  .  .  and  a 
cartload  of  costumes  I  got  cheap  in  Madrid,  and  a 
dozen  pretty  Italian  girls.  Yes. ' ' 

Wasn't  it  rather  taking  a  risk  to  divide  the 
party?  Margarita  wondered. 

Francina  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  Salvatore 
said  grimly  that  he  thought  Laroche  would  be 
equal  to  the  job.  "I'll  answer  for  mi/ lot.  We  shall 
have  all  the  principals  except  the  Sforzi  and 
Laroche  if  the  baritone  comes  with  me,  and  that 
little  Portuguese  tenor  boy  who's  taking  on  little 
parts — like  you,  Margie." 

"We  shan't  have  to  chase  each  other  up  and 
down  the  Amazon?"  Laroche  hoped. 

"Not  quite.  We  shall  get  to  Para  first,  probably 
a  day  or  two  ahead,  and  we'll  wait  for  you.  Now, 
let 's  get  back  to  our  opera  program,  girls. ' ' 

The  door  opened  to  admit  a  fat  and  prosperous- 
looking  young  man  with  a  cheerful  grin,  Mortimer 
Bassett,  a  country  neighbor  of  the  Channings  and 
an  adorer  from  childhood  of  Francina.  Nobody 
knew,  perhaps  not  even  Francina  herself,  why  she 
had  suddenly  married  Salvatore  instead,  during 
the  year  of  her  musical  training  in  Italy.  Pas- 
sionately and  openly  lamenting  her  loss,  Mortimer 


36  BLACK  GOLD 

nevertheless  remained  on  good  terms  with  her  and 
included  Salvatore  in  his  affection  for  all  that  was 
Francina's.  He  went  and  sat  beside  her  now,  dis- 
tressed at  the  prospect  of  the  Brazilian  adventure, 
but  making  efforts  to  be  cheerful  about  it. 

Salvatore  went  on:  *'Now  look  here!  We  have 
only  got  three  operas  fixed  on:  *  Carmen,'  *Trova- 
tore'  and  the  *  Cavalleria. '  Now  what  about 
'Ai'daT' 

'^Impossible!'*  declared  Laroche.  *'The  Nile 
scene's  all  right,  but  what  about  the  enormous 
chorus,  and  the  double  scene  at  the  end?  No,  im- 
possible. ' ' 

**It's  popular  in  South  America  They  do  it  in 
B.  A.,"  meditated  Salvatore.  **We  could  cut  a  lot 
of  the  chorus  out.  And  it 's  one  of  the  really  singer- 
proof  ones.  Couldn't  we  cut  out  that  temple- 
destruction  scene?" 

''It  might  be  as  well  to  give  the  Brazilians  a 
chance  to  recognize  our  operas?"  Francina 
thought. 

Eeceiving  no  encouragement,  Salvatore  went  on 
with  the  next  item.  "  'La  Boheme,'  of  course.  No 
dressing  or  scenery  to  i^eak  of,  and  everybody 
likes  it.  Francie,  don't  forget  to  take  your  muff 
with  you." 

"It  isn't  mine,"  murmured  Francina.  "And  a 
muff  in  Manaos,  Salvie!  How  intolerable!  Let's 
change  it  to  an  electric  fan." 

"Very  well,  that's  four.  'Faust.'  We  shall  have 
to  give  it." 

"Too  much  chorus;  think  of  it! — soldiers,  the 
kermesse  angels " 

"We  can  cut  them  out,  lots  of  them." 

"Couldn't  manage  the  Brocken  scene." 


BLACK  GOLD  37 

*'Cut  it  out.''  Salvatore  was  getting  mechani- 
cal. He  wrote  the  name  down. 

**Next.  'Pagliacci,'  of  course.  Any  objections? 
No?  All  right.  Now'Tosca.'  Nothing  we  can't  do 
in  that.  Charming  music."  He  began  to  sing 
^' Mario,  Mario,  Mario!  Per  che  chiusof" 

**  There  is  quite  much  costuming  in  'Tosca'/' 
remarked  Bianca,  opening  her  eyes. 

**Francina,  can't  you  and  Margarita  fix  up  the 
clothes?" 

Margarita  began  to  laugh.  ''I  tell  you  what  I 
will  do!  I'll  make  the  clothes  for  the  ^Pagliacci* 
columbine,  if  you'll  let  me  have  her  part,"  she 
promised. 

''You'll  do  all  the  odd  jobs,  my  child,"  he 
agreed.  ''You're  a  tower  of  strength  to  me.  Now, 
there's 'Rigoletto'  .  .  .  I  am  not  very  keen  on  it, 
but  I'm  open  to  reason.  And  what  about  'Butter- 
fly'?" 

"Not  dramatic  enough,  not  for  South  America," 
Laroche  was  sure.  "There's  only  one  song  in  it." 

"There's  only  one  song  in  any  opera,"  retorted 
Salvatore.  He  took  up  one  of  the  cable  forms, 
looked  earnestly  at  what  he  had  written,  and 
reflected.  "While  I  am  about  it  I  might  just  as 
well  ask  for  another  thousand."  He  put  in  a  few 
words.  "When  I  think  what  I  am  paying  out  to 
the  steamship  companies  I  can't  sleep  at  night." 
When  John  Ware  came  in  a  few  minutes  later  he 
was  considering  just  what  he  could  do  "if  any- 
thing happens  to  the  chorus,  or  the  theatre  burns 
down  or  we  lose  the  scenery  or  something. ' '  It  was 
just  as  well  to  be  prepared  for  contingencies  .  .  . 
and  you  knew  what  had  happened  to  the  first  com- 
pany   that    went    to    the    Amazon,    when    the 


38  BLACK  GOLD 

impresario  couldn't  find  a  single  one  of  his  chorus 
girls  after  he'd  given  the  first  performance,  and 
had  to  go  round  the  town  and  beg  people  just  to 
lend  him  Lucia  and  Marietta,  just  for  an  hour  or 
two,  please,  just  so  he  could  give  the  next  perform- 
ance; and  you  remembered  that  they  never  did 
give  more  than  the  second — there  wasn't  a  girl 
to  be  found.  .  .  .  One  shouldn 't  forget  that  those 
things  did  happen,  although  he  personally  in- 
tended to  keep  the  chorus  under  lock  and  key. 

**"We  can  always  fall  back  upon  scenes  like  the 
trio  from  *Aida'  and  the  duet  in  the  church  from 
'Tosca,'  and  the  scene  between  Margherita  and  the 
devil — No,  ^  tu  non  dei  pregar.  And  there 's  the 
^Rigoletto'  quartet  ..." 

**I  am  dying  for  tea,"  Francina  said  to  Morti- 
mer under  her  breath;  she  got  up  and  began  to 
move  to  the  door,  as  Salvatore  added  absent- 
mindedly,  **And  there  are  quite  a  few  nice  deaths, 
we  could  use  some  of  them. ' ' 

Somebody  laughed  and  he  protested:  "Every- 
body likes  those  deaths!  They're  not  like  *  Butter- 
fly,' downright  miserable,  but  good,  wholesome, 
jolly  deaths." 

At  this  point  Bianca  raised  her  fine  eyelashes 
again.  '*"Why  do  you  take  scenery?  There  is 
everything  you  could  want  in  Buenos  Aires.  I 
know  there  is.  My  sister  was  there  once  with  a 
Spanish  company.  Ask  them  to  lend  it."  Salva- 
tore looked  at  her  with  grieved  reproach. 

''From  just  around  the  corner?  Yes,  that's  a 
wonderful  idea.  Ever  seen  a  map,  Bianca  dar- 
ling?" He  lit  a  cigarette  and  entreated:  ''Won't 
somebody  take  them  all  out  to  tea?  Will  you, 
Mortimer,  old  chap?  Ware? . . .  No,  I  won't  come. 
I  have  to  send  this  cable,  and  then  I  must  think 
out  some  scenery — something  transformable.     A 


BLACK  GOLD  39 

church  interior  that  will  reverse  into  the  bed  of 

Francina,  standing  before  the  mirror  arranging 
her  veil,  began  speaking  to  Mortimer  in  a  far- 
away, sentimental  voice,  her  eyes  turned  on  the 
fond  young  man:  ^^ Before  I  go  to  Brazil,  I  must 
have  a  search  made  for  the  details  of  our  noble 
Portuguese  ancestry.  I  know  that  our  great- 
grandfather was  a  great  fidalgo  of  the  court 
of '' 

Salvatore  burst  in  upon  her  with  a  shriek  of 
laughter.  He  cried  between  spasms:  '*0h,  Fran- 
cina, that's  the  first  I  ever  heard  of  him!  What  an 
awfully  good  idea!  Do  look  him  up.  It'll  cost  you 
ten  pounds  to  have  a  tree  made,  and  I'll  put  an- 
other figure  on  to  this  cable  on  the  strength  of  it. 
But_say,  you  be  careful,  dear!  You  might  find  out 
he  was  a  toothpick  maker  in  Lisbon.    Most  of  'em 

were,  you  know.   The  fidalgo  ancestor !"  He 

sobbed  with  joy. 

His  wife  fastened  her  veil  without  diminution  of 
her  equanimity,  remarking  with  a  lovely  smile: 
**If  Salvatore  only  wouldn't  speak  I  could  be  so 
proud  of  him!  He  looks  so  nice,  doesn't  he?  Like 
a  Rafael  fallen  angel  or  something.  And  then  he 
talks  like  a  gamin." 

Salvatore  protested,  still  convulsed:  **No,  no, 
dearest,  you  wrong  me!  East  Side  New  York.  I 
got  my  wide  knowledge  of  life  on  Third  Avenue 
and  my  nice  manners  on  Division  Street.  .  .  . 
It's  true  I  learnt  my  repartee  from  the  Five 
Points,  but  I  did  acquire  my  musical  technique  in 
Macdougal  Alley.  .  .  .  gamin,  indeed!" 

Mortimer,  opening  the  door  for  the  girls,  let 
them  and  Ware  pass  through  and  shut  it  behind 
him  with  the  suspicion  of  a  slam. 


IV 

TELEPHONING  next  day  to  Margarita,  Ware 
used  guile.  ^*It's  quite  necessary  for  you  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  our  Amazon  tropics  be- 
fore you  sail.  .  .  .  Come  and  eat  yellow  rice  with 
chicken,  and  then  let's  go  down  to  Kew." 

They  lunched  gaily  in  a  little  Spanish  restau- 
rant and  took  an  early  afternoon  train.  The  morn- 
ing had  been  of  the  misty  and  rather  raw  variety, 
but  now  gleams  of  sun  appeared,  piercing  the  haze 
and  creating  opalescent  tints.  Over  Kew  the  sky 
was  patched  with  blue  and  through  the  lacy  gates 
the  green  velvet  turf  lay  flooded  with  golden 
light. 

They  spent  a  few  moments  in  the  house  at  the 
left  of  the  entrance,  full  of  chastened  hardwoods: 
huge  trunks  of  tropic-grown  trees,  tamed,  limbless, 
their  external  beauty  despoiled  and  their  hearts 
smoothed  and  polished  to  show  the  record  of  long 
years. 

Deciding  that  this  was  a  mournful  sight,  they 
abandoned  it  and  walked  the  many  gravelled 
paths.  Beside  them,  masses  of  ordered  plants 
grew  in  obedient  precision,  flourishing  sedately 
beneath  the  artful  hand  of  the  experimenter — the 
experimenter  who  would  bend  and  color  their 
children  as  he  had  bent  their  forefathers  to  his 
decorative  scheme. 

Flowing  slopes  of  emerald  turf  lay  broken  by 

groups  of  great  trees,  some  still  clothed  in  russet 

^■^    and  yellow,  but  many  manifestly  sleeping.    The 

40 


BLACK  GOLD  41 

flowers  were  nearly  all  gone,  a  belated  rose  empha- 
sizing the  lack  of  color,  and  for  long  stretches  the 
evergreens  dominated,  somber  and  a  little  forbid- 
ding. Berberis  glowed:  the  yews'  fruit  shone  like 
tiny  oranges.  A  strange  clump  of  cinnamon- 
branched  arbutus  stood  in  full  bloom. 

The  gardens  were  empty  of  people.  London  was 
at  work,  and  these  two  felt  like  runaways  half  for- 
given by  a  busy  world  because  they  faced  adven- 
ture. Near  the  gates  a  wrinkled  old  gardener 
swept  the  fallen  leaves  aside;  a  pale  girl  walked 
with  a  young  man,  both  talking  earnestly  and  pay- 
ing no  heed  to  the  gardens ;  a  couple  of  gardeners 
sang  and  laughed  as  they  worked  on  the  roof  of 
one  of  the  glass  houses;  a  bearded  person  in 
strange  tweeds  paced  up  and  down,  reading  from 
a  tiny  book.  They  saw  no  one  else. 

Seeking  tropics,  Ware  took  her  first  to  the  or- 
chid houses.  They  were  all  riot  and  glow  despite 
the  outer  chill.  The  atmosphere  was  a  warm 
breath:  the  attitude  and  colors  of  the  extraordi- 
nary flowers,  with  their  bold  and  cunning  devices, 
made  them  seem  like  living  presences.  Ware,  an 
orchid  devotee,  took  her  to  some  of  his  favorites. 
.  .  .  *'That  thing  with  the  crimson  stars  is  an 
Odontioda  .  .  .  and  this  is  one  of  the  Cymbid- 
iums.  ..."  She  laughed,  declaring  that  looked 
like  a  flock  of  frightened  geese  rising  from  a  pond. 
**You  can  almost  hear  them  squawking." 

'^Here  are  some  you'll  see  if  you  come  up  the 

Negro  to  the  islands "  white  beauties  with 

gold-splashed  lips.  '* These  are  rather  rare;  but 
you  can  get  barrel  loads  of  these  other  pink  and 
mauve  Cattleyas  if  you  like  them." 

She  asked  him  idly  if  he  went  orchid  hunting. 

**  Sometimes.  You  know  I  have  an  interest  in  a 


42  BLACK  GOLD 

strip  of  rubber  forest,  a  seringal,  up  the  river,  and 
I  often  go  up  there  for  a  few  days  to  look  after 
things.  I  have  a  motor  boat  and  a  little  house  near 
the  river's  edge.  You  wouldn't  call  it  a  house — 
it's  a  palm-thatched  hut  with  a  hammock  and  an 
oil  stove  for  furniture.  But  if  you  ever  come  there 
I  can  give  you  a  cup  of  very  good  coffee,"  he 
promised. 

She  smiled  at  him  across  a  flower  of  hyacinth 
blue.  ''You  might  treat  me  as  badly  as  you  did 
at  Tregennen  about  the  tea." 

He  came  quickly  to  her  side,  taken  with  a  sud- 
den anxiety.  ''Miss  Channing,  tell  me,  please  I 
Have  you  said  anything — about  that?  About  the 
house  of  faery  ? ' '  She  put  her  hand  into  his  like  a 
child. 

"Oh,  no!  Of  course  not!  No  one  could  explain 
it.  Or  understand,  could  they?  That  was  ours,  you 
know."  She  spoke  with  an  innocently  candid  air, 
her  eyes  very  blue  in  her  smiling  face,  and  Ware 
murmured:  "Heaven  bless  you!"  into  the  heavy 
leaves  of  a  jutting  orchid  as  she  turned  away. 

The  air  outside  had  a  bite  in  it,  and  they  went 
quickly  to  the  big  palm  house,  where  great  simple 
giants  flatten  their  fronds  against  the  glass  roof. 
From  one  lofty  heart  an  immense  spathe  of  bloom 
hung  downwards,  like  the  blonde  tresses  of  an 
Amazonian  oread. 

Leading  the  way  to  a  tree  that  stood  erect, 
smooth-stemmed,  with  quantities  of  three-fingered 
leaves.  Ware  waved  an  introduction." 

"Your  host,  mademoiselle.  Your  wealthy  and 
most  hospitable  host." 

"Ah,  that's  rubber?" 

"No  less."  She  regarded  it  thoughtfully.  "How 
did  they  ever  bring  it  here  ? " 


BLACK  GOLD  43 

^  *'They  didn't.  Shall  I  tell  youT'  He  was  a 
little  diffident  about  giving  instruction,  but  she 
was  inclined  to  listen,  and  said  so.  Ware  spoke 
briefly.  ^*It  is  really  an  extraordinarily  romantic 
tale,  but  I'll  cut  it  short.  A  man  went  up  the 
Amazon  and  fetched  back  a  trunkful  of  rubber 
seeds.  He  brought  them  here  to  Kew  and  they 
tried  to  make  them  grow.  ...  It  was  in  1876. 
They  didn't  know  how,  but  they  nursed  them  like 
babies  .  .  .  and  this  is  one  of  the  infants.  I  think 
about  two  thousand  of  them  grew  out  of  seventy 
thousand  seeds. 

**When  they  had  got  the  little  seedlings,  they 
couldn't  keep  them  here,  of  course;  they  had  to 
bring  them  up  in  some  hot  place  like  the  Amazon. 
So  they  were  taken  to  Ceylon  and  Borneo  and  all 
over  Malaysia.  Lots  of  them  died.  But  a  heap 
lived.  And  in  about  five  or  six  years  some  of  them 
began  to  flower,  and  when  the  seeds  ripened  the 
planters  set  them  out  in  new  plantations.  Then  in 
another  year  or  two  they  tapped  the  oldest  and 
strongest  of  the  trees  to  see  if  they  would  yield 
the  rubber  milk.  Until  that  moment  they  didn't 
know  whether  their  trees  were  any  good  or  not — 
whether  they  were  able  to  produce  rubber  away 
from  their  own  home. ' ' 

He  stopped  and  the  girl  prompted  him.  **What 
happened?" 

'*It  was  all  right,  but  they  couldn't  cure  it  as 
the  natives  do  on  the  Amazon.  They  hadn't  got  the 
nuts  to  burn  for  the  smoke,  and  they  didn't  get 
them  because  the  Amazon  government  passed  a 
law  forbidding  the  export  of  those  nuts  or  of  any 
more  rubber  seed.  And  then  the  Ceylon  planters 
began  to  get  the  idea  that  they  had  never  really 
had  the  best  kind  of  seed — ^we  are  not  sure  even 


44  BLACK  GOLD 

now.  The  East  is  producing  thousands  of  tons  of 
rubber  now — but  there  seems  to  be  a  difference 
.  .  .  between  black  trees  and  white  trees,  from 
the  lower  river  or  the  upper.  I  am  trying  to  find 
out  just  what  the  difference  is — whether  it's  only 
the  curing.  .  .  . ' '  He  spoke  a  little  absently  and 
then  suddenly  started. 

**I  beg  your  pardon!  I  am  boring  you  to  death  I 
Forgive  me!  What  need  you  care  about  the 
troubles  of  a  poor  rubber  planter?" 

**  Indeed  I  care  .  .  .  since,  as  you  say,  rubber  is 
my  kind  host.  .  .  .  Eubber's  the  reason  why  Bra- 
zil has  so  much  money?"  He  answered  her  seri- 
ously. 

**  North  Brazil,  yes.  To-day  and  perhaps  to-mor- 
row. But  these  rubber  stepchildren  have  grown 
so  fast  in  the  East  since  Kew  nursed  those  seeds, 
you  see.  .  .  .  "When  the  Malaysia  planters  are 
shipping  out  two  hundred  thousand  tons  of 
rubber  in  a  few  years '  time,  with  all  the  industry 
organized  on  a  business  plan,  it  may  not  be  so  easy 
for  the  Amazon.  I  hope  so — I  love  the  country  and 
the  people.  There's  plenty  of  room  for  all  the  rub- 
ber in  the  world  .  .  .  but  these  booms !  Kather  a 
curse,  I  am  afraid.  Give  people  a  wrong  sense  of 
proportion. ' ' 

He  gave  the  tree  a  military  salute,  with  a  gay 
gesture.  **Come,  I  know  this  is  frightfully  dull 
for  you.  Do  you  want  to  see  anything  else?" 

She  looked  at  him  over  her  shoulder  as  she 
walked  out.  *'Yes.  In  return  for  your  rubber  lec- 
ture, I'll  let  you  into  the  secret  of  another  of  my 
hidden  loves.  The  North  Gallery,  for  a  minute, 
please." 

Outside,  the  light  was  declining:  a  haze  crept 
among  the  trees.  They  walked  quickly  to  the  gal- 
lery, and  stood  in  a  maze  of  sedulous  pictures. 


BLACK  GOLD  45 

Margarita's  eyes  commanded  sympathy.  '^I 
know  all  their  faults,"  she  declared.  '*But  do 
please  like  them!  Think  of  all  the  happy  hours 
and  weeks  and  years  she  spent,  sitting  in  swamps 
and  forests  and  deserts,  to  paint  all  her  beloved 
pictures  of  flowers.  I  have  such  a  joy  in  her,  be- 
cause she  did  just  what  she  wanted  to  do.  And  she 
wasn't  a  bit  afraid  of  her  jungles.  .  .  .  Think  of 
that  little  gentle  Victorian  old  maid " 

He  laughed.  ^' Of  course  she  wasn't  afraid!  She 
wasn't  stealing  from  them.  It's  we  who  try  to 
commercialize  jungles  who  ought  to  be  terrified 
of  them." 

She  considered  this.  *^Yes.  But,  somehow,  you 
don't  look  much  like  a  thief,  do  you  know*?  Are 
you?  I  tell  you  what  you  had  better  do.  When 
you  have  finished  all  your  dark  deeds,  come 
back  and  create  a  tropical  garden  like  Marion 
North's,  and  make  your  peace." 

** Let's  make  a  bargain.  You  start  the  garden, 
and  I'll  come  and  dig  in  it." 

A  thought  struck  her.  *  *  The  garden  of  the  house 
of  faery?" 

She  said  it  smiling,  but  ceased  to  smile  as  he 
turned  a  moved  face  with  intense  bright  eyes  upon 
her.  He  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  shut  them 
again  with  a  visible  effort.  They  stood  with  deep 
looks  together  for  a  long  minute  and  then  she 
moved,  going  to  the  inside  room  and  calling  him 
to  help  her  to  find  Brazilian  pictures.  As  they 
came  out  again  she  asked  him:  *^Do  tell  me,  who 
can  I  take  for  my  Third  Favorite  Woman?  I've 
got  two.  This  Marion  North  first;  and  then 
Lucrezia  Borgia.  But  I  never  could  decide  on  the 
third." 

He  searched  in  space.  ^' Helen?" 

She  was  shocked.   **No,  indeed!  Just  a  rather 


46  BLACK  GOLD 

stupid  beauty.  I  have  thought  of  Cleopatra,  but 
she  wasn't  much  better.  Queen  Elizabeth?  No,  I 
don't  think  so.  I  shall  have  to  wait.  Perhaps  I 
shall  find  my  third  candidate  up  the  Amazon." 

He  persuaded  her  to  walk  through  the  avenue 
of  cedars  before  leaving  the  gardens.  The  dark 
trees,  immensely  tall  in  the  sunset,  stood  erect  in 
sombre  pride,  puritanical  withstanders  of  the  win- 
ter. Their  silhouettes  were  stark  against  the  clear 
gold  of  the  sky.  Margarita,  turning  to  speak  to 
her  companion  here,  encountered  a  look  that  en- 
wrapped her  with  a  kind  of  poignant  tenderness. 
She  gave  him  a  frank  smile  but  said  a  little  hur- 
riedly, glancing  at  her  watch:  *'Do  you  know,  we 
are  going  to  be  horribly  late?  Let's  go.  Which  is 
the  nearest " 

**Late  for  what?"  he  demanded. 

*' Mortimer's  tea  at  the  Criterion.  Don't  you  re- 
member? His  disagreeable  sister,  too.  He  wants 
to  cry  over  us,  and  Mrs.  Grenville  is  going  to 
think  of  spiteful  things  to  say  to  Francina.  But 
Francina  always  beats  her.  She  can  be  insulting 
so  sweetly  and  calmly,  but  Mrs.  Grenville  always 
gets  red  in  the  face.    I  don't  like  her  a  bit." 

**Well,  I  haven't  met  her  yet,  but  I'm  on  your 
side,  so  I  don't  like  her  either,"  he  declared 
gravely,  his  eyes  on  the  bright  tendrils  of  hair  that 
crisped  on  her  neck.  There  never  was  anything 
in  the  world  so  enchanting  as  the  skin  of  her, 
lightly  shaded  with  gold,  and  flushed  on  her  round 
cheeks  with  such  a  soft  flame-red.  .  .  .  He  fol- 
lowed her  through  the  gates,  seized  with  an  insane 
feeling  that  he  couldn  't  bear  to  let  her  return  to  all 
that  tribe  of  tiresome  people,  among  whom  she 
walked  as  a  little  wood  sprite  escaped  into  a  dan- 


BLACK  GOLD  47 

gerous  world.  He  did  not  dare  to  suggest  letting 
the  engagement  slide,  and  meekly  took  her  back 
to  town. 

They  scarcely  exchanged  a  word  on  the  way,  she 
sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage  and  saying  when 
he  spoke  to  her:  ** Please,  let  me  remember  my  or- 
chids and  palm  trees.  I  like  to  go  over  them  in  my 
mind.  .  .  .  You  know,  if  we  are  to  make  all  that 
long  voyage  on  the  same  ship,  we  must  be  really 
good  friends;  good  enough  friends  not  to  talk, 
sometimes.  It  isn't  always  necessary  to  speak, 
when  people  understand  T' 

Entering  the  Criterion  they  walked  into  another 
world.  The  hot  rooms,  blazing  with  light,  were 
chiefly  tenanted  with  couples — ^pairs  of  young 
heads  leaning  together;  the  more  sophisticated  at 
least  affecting  a  negligent  air  with  each  other.  The 
soft  murmur  of  English  voices,  pitched  in  such 
tones  that  they  only  carried  a  yard,  merged  into  a 
lightly  assaulting  wave  as  the  door  opened;  there 
was  an  agreeable  smell  of  tea  and  hot  muffins.  Dis- 
creet waiters  hovered  about  with  little  trays  of 
sandwiches  and  colored  cakes. 

In  a  corner  half  screened  by  a  shrub  sat  Fran- 
cina  and  Mortimer.  The  lady,  wearing  a  white  fur 
cap,  assumed  with  it  a  deceitful  atmosphere  of  in- 
nocence. He,  fat  and  agitated,  gulped  boiling  tea 
and  gazed  upon  her  as  she  chattered.  The  new- 
comers were  greeted  hospitably,  but  Francina 
commented  with  protests  upon  Margarita's  com- 
plexion. ^*You  will  ruin  your  skin,  darling,  run- 
ning about  in  the  cold  without  a  veil.  You  are 
quite  red.'' 

Ware  permitted  himself  a  certain  impertinence 
in  countering  this  attack.    **She  is  most  beauti- 


48  BLACK  GOLD 

fully  rosy,''  lie  assured  Francina.  **As  you,  dear 

Mrs.  Antonelli,  are  most  beautifully  pale *' 

She  interrupted  him  with  an  infinitesimal  shriek. 
^TaleT'  She  snatched  her  handbag,  seized  a  tiny 
object,  gazed  into  its  surface  with  passionate  at- 
tention, and  declared,  **So  I  am.  That  new  liquid 
rouge  is  no  good  at  all  .  .  ." 

Ware  went  on  calmly:  **But  whatever  the  mer- 
its of  your  complexions,  mesdames,  I  beg  to  assurq 
you  that  you  will  get  no  credit  for  them  on  the 
Amazon. ' ' 

Margarita  wanted  to  know  where  Salvatore  was. 

**You  know  how  he  hates  tea!  But  he'll  come 
in  later  with  Laroche.  They've  gone  to  buy  a 
tame  bull  for  *  Carmen  V'  Francina  thought,  and, 
looking  across  at  the  entrance,  murmured  with 
great  sweetness,  ** Here's  your  dear  sister,  Morti- 
mer, just  coming  in  with  Aunt  Kitty.'* 

The  two  elderly  women  came  towards  them, 
smiling.  Aunt  Kitty  had  her  usual  air  of  pleasant 
efficiency;  Mrs.  Grenville  swept  the  room  with  a 
slightly  derogatory  eye.  She  was  so  well  uphol- 
stered that  her  stoutness  was  under  control,  and 
she  subtly  conveyed  the  impression  that  she  had 
been  born  middle-aged  and  handsomely  dressed. 
She  did  not  like  Francina,  and  seemed  to  swell  a 
little  as  she  looked  at  her.  An  instinct  of  feminine 
defence  cried  '* Danger!"  and  she  was  unmelted 
by  lovely  smiles. 

As  they  sank  into  the  chairs  adjusted  by  the 
two  men,  exchanging  greetings,  Francina  put  up  a 
deprecating  hand.  ^*  Dearest  Mrs.  Grenville,  I 
don't  wonder  that  you  gaze  upon  my  clothes!  Did 
you  know  it  was  the  last  time  they  are  to  appear 
upon  me?  These  are  the  ultimate  remnants  of  my 


BLACK  GOLD  '49 

woolen  garments,  and  to-morrow  I  am  going  to 
pawn  these,  buy  pink  chiffon  with  my  last  penny, 
and  sail  shivering." 

Aunt  Kitty  interjected  through  laughter:  **My 
dear,  be  careful.  You  will  catch  your  death  of 
cold.  ...  I'm  not  sure  that  she  doesn't  mean 
it!  I  know  her.'' 

^'Nobody  knows  me,"  Francina  objected,  smil- 
ing gently.  *'But  I  do  mean  it.  And  I  shan't  die  of 
cold,  because  I  shall  go  to  bed  directly  I  get  on 
board  ship  and  stay  there  until  we  attain  warm 
weather.  I  am  nearly  always  seasick,  and  anyway 
I  shall  enjoy  being  waited  on." 

''I'm  afraid  you'll  stay  in  bed  until  we  are  in 
sight  of  land,  in  that  case,"  Ware  said.  ''The 
Atlantic  is  quite  capable  of  being  cold  all  the  way 
over." 

"I  don't  care.  I  must  have  pink  chiffon."  She 
went  on  talking  quickly,  countering  Mrs.  Gren- 
ville's  rather  heavy  condescensions  towards  the 
two  girls,  and  that  lady  was  thrust  back  upon  a 
comparison  of  shopping  notes  with  Aunt  Kitty. 
To  her  she  always  adopted  an  air  of  pity  kept  in 
check  by  a  good  heart,  a  pity  that  had  two  bases: 
first,  Mrs.  Channing's  childlessness,  and  next,  her 
execrable  and  even  lamentable  taste  in  having 
given  up  an  entirely  comfortable,  satisfactory 
widowhood  in  order  to  marry  the  casual  Arthur 
Channing  with  his  assortment  of  children  and  pe- 
culiar associates.  Secretly,  she  considered  Arthur 
Channing  as  a  trifle  mentally  unbalanced,  re- 
garded the  entire  menage  with  suspicion,  and  was 
excellently  confirmed  in  her  judgment  by  the 
present  escapade.  It  had  no  other  name.  Salva- 
tore,  an  impudent  foreigner,  was  anathema  to  her, 


50  BLACK  GOLD 

and  she  really  remained  on  speaking  terms  with 
Aunt  Kitty  only  in  order  to  have  the  satisfaction 
of  conveying  her  opinions. 

Mortimer,  never  able  to  realize  his  sister's  atti- 
tude, nor  to  save  himself  from  the  elementary  mis- 
take of  exalting  a  young  woman  before  the  face  of 
an  elderly  one,  turned  to  her  under  cover  of  other 
talk  and  began  to  speak  of  Francina  in  a  low 
voice,  *^ Isn't  she  wonderful!  She  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful woman  in  the  world,  and  yet  she  is  so  unself- 
ish, so  modest.  So  few  people  understand  her." 

'*You  do,  of  course,"  Mrs.  Grenville  interjected 
with  portly  sarcasm  entirely  lost  upon  the  young 
man. 

He  went  on,  **Yes,  yes,  of  course!  Before  all 
you  others  came  in  she  was  explaining  to  me  that 
she  hates  to  go  away,  leaving  behind  so  much  that 
she — she — cares  for,  but  she  is  really  only  think- 
ing of  Margarita.  She  believes  that  there  will  be 
some  great  future  for  the  child  as  a  result.  .  .  . 
She  confided  all  her  dreams  to  me.  She  is  sacrific- 
ing herself.  She  seems  so  gay,  but  her  heart  is 
wonderful.  .  .  .  She  is  a  pure  white  flame." 

Mrs.  Grenville  was  quite  excusably  roused  to 
wrath.  She  made  the  mistake,  however,  of  show- 
ing temper.  **A  pure  white  fiddlestick!"  she  re- 
torted, without  dignity.  **  Francina  is  perfectly 
callous." 

Mortimer  flushed  heavily.  ^*You  hurt  me, 
Agnes,"  he  protested.  **Not  her.  No  one  could. 
She  is  above  it.  You  don't  mean  that.  You  don't 
understand  her." 

*'I  understand  her  quite  well."  Her  smile  was 
appalling.  Mortimer  did  not  hear.  With  eyes  fixed 
on  Francina  and  a  catch  in  his  voice  he  murmured, 
''God  bless  her  sweet  face!   Wherever  she  goes, 


BLACK  GOLD  51 

however  long  she  stays  away,  she'll  find  me  wait- 
ing when  she  comes  back.'' 

^^You  seem  to  forget  that  she  has  a  husband," 
his  sister  said,  but  was  startled  by  the  sudden 
anger  of  the  amiable  Mortimer.  ^^ Forget!  Good 
heavens!  What  detestable  ideas  you  have,  Agnes! 
Why,  Salvatore  is  my  dearest  friend!  Forget,  in- 
deed!" He  breathed  indignation.  **If  Francina 
would  let  me  serve  her,  clean  her  little  shoes,  do 
any  mortal  thing,  I  should  never  want  a  sign  from 
her.  I'd  prefer  she  didn't  even  thank  me."  He 
swallowed  tea  hastily,  his  face  scarlet. 

Francina,  observing  the  hasty  interchange  from 
the  comers  of  her  eyes,  murmured  to  Margarita, 
'* Agnes  Grenville  is  saying  cattish  things  about 
me  to  Mortimer.  I  know  she  is.  The  poor  dear  is 
quite  upset.  I  do  hope  there's  a  special  hell  for 
respectable  married  women  like  Agnes." 

Aloud  she  cried,  gaily  impertinent,  **  Mortimer, 
dear,  please  don't  go  about  telling  people  how 
much  you  are  going  to  miss  me.  You  won't  get  a 
bit  of  sympathy.  Besides,  sentimentality  is  a 
dreadful  crime." 

Salvatore,  approaching  unseen,  stood  behind 
her  chair,  a  diamond  ring  flashing  from  the  hand 
with  which  he  stroked  back  his  blue-black  hair. 
He  contributed  at  once,  *'It's  the  salvation  of  the 
world.  What's  even  more  to  the  point,  it's  the 
salvation  of  me.  For  example,  it  is  Amazonian 
sentimentality  that  has  just  cabled  me  another 
thousand  pounds." 

Everybody  laughed,  but  Francina  protested, 
"No,  that's  sentiment,  Salvie,  quite  a  different 
thing.  Admirable  sentiment.  ...  I  should  dis- 
play more  emotion  if  I  had  the  least  chance  of  see- 
ing even  the  glimmer  of  that  money.  No,  wiQ,t  I 


52  BLACK  GOLD 

was  warning  Mortimer  against  was  the  sort  of  sen- 
timentality that  makes  a  man  suddenly  marry  his 
cook — like  Squire  Hunt,  you  know." 

Mortimer  had  recovered  his  equanimity  and  re- 
joined with  smiles,  *^That  wasn^t  sentimentality. 
That  was  the  wonderful  Welsh  rabbits  she  used  to 
make.  And  if  he'd  stopped  to  think  for  a  moment 
he'd  have  married  the  Welsh  rabbit  instead.  That 
was  his  real  love." 

**The  cook  or  the  Welsh  rabbit,  whichever  you 
like.  So  long  as  a  man  marries  I  approve  both  his 
choice  and  his  reasons,"  declared  Salvatore,  sit- 
ting down  beside  Aunt  Kitty.  *'I  am  a  great  be- 
liever in  the  marriage  of  men.  Women,  of  course, 
should  always  remain  virgins.  ..." 

Mrs.  Channing  hastily  interposed  a  shower  of 
words  between  the  rash  man  and  the  eye  of  Agnes 
Grenville.  **  Quite  right,  my  dear  boy  I  There's  no 
object  on  earth  so  wretched  as  an  old  bachelor, 
especially  the  calculating  ones  who  always  mean 
to  get  married  and  keep  putting  it  off  for  some 
motive  or  other,  and  spend  a  hateful  old  age  at  last 
with  not  a  soul  to  speak  to.  Old  women  at  any 
rate  can  always  nurse  somebody  else's  babies." 

**Well,  if  you  are  all  talking  about  me,  I  am  im- 
mensely obliged  to  you  for  outlining  my  future  so 
neatly,"  said  Mortimer,  his  fat  face  wreathed  in 
smiles,  and  devouring  petits  fours.  ''Aren't  these 
things  frightfully  good  with  the  pink  stuff  on  the 
top?  Antonelli,  do  have  some  tea  and  eat  some 
of  these." 

''No,  no.  I  am  breaking  myself  in  for  the  Ama- 
zon. Is  the  food  going  to  be  very  bad.  Ware?" 

Ware  considered.  "Depends  how  you  take  it. 
If  you're  thinking  all  the  time  of  juicy  mutton 
chops  and  strawberries,  then  you'll  grumble.    But 


BLACK  GOLD  53 

if  you  can  get  along  with  Frenchy  kind  of  stews 
and  soups,  and  lots  of  sweets  and  black  coffee  and 
eggs,  you'll  cotton  to  it  all  right." 

** Think  of  all  the  delicious  tropical  fruit," 
somebody  suggested. 

Ware  thought  that  that  was  rather  a  fraud. 
'*A11  the  best  tropic  fruit  already  comes  here — 
mangoes  and  pineapples  and  bananas — if  you  call 
bananas  fruit.  I  think  they're  like  eating  a  well- 
soaped  flannel  bandage.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
would  give  all  the  tropical  fruits  in  the  world  ex- 
cept the  mangoes  and  pineapples  for  a  plate  of 
ripe  cherries,  any  day." 

'* Don't  chill  our  ardor,  Mr.  Ware,"  Francina 
begged  him. 

**Not  for  the  world.  Personally,  I  am  very  fond 
of  South  American  food,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
be  disappointed.  Of  course,  the  best  cooking  in  all 
the  Americas  is  really  Negro  cooking — ^African 
ideas.  All  the  best  places  to  eat  are  those  where 
there  is  a  big  remnant  of  slave  population.  North 
or  South.  The  famous  cooking  of  the  south  of  the 
United  States  is  first  cousin  to  the  Bahia  cooking 
of  Brazil.  They  like  to  call  it  French,  but  it  isn't, 
it's  African,  and  half  the  stuff  they  use  in  it  was 
brought  from  the  West  Coast." 

**Ah,  Jamaican  pepper  pot!"  cried  Salvatore, 
shutting  his  eyes.    **I  dream  of  it  to  this  day." 

*  *  You  know  Jamaica  ? ' ' 

**I  was  born  in  the  West  Indies "  began  Sal- 
vatore, but  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Grenville,  who 
stared  at  him  through  a  lorgnette. 

**Mr.  Antonelli's  memory  deserts  him.  The  last 
time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  I  remem- 
ber his  saying  that  he  was  born  in  Corsica." 

**Well,  being  born  in  a  lot  of  places  is  better 


54  BLACK  GOLD 

than  being  dead  in  a  lot,"  said  the  gentleman 
cheerfully.  '^Anyway,  the  food's  good  in  Jama- 
ica. Girls,  let's  start  a  South  American  restau- 
rant in  Piccadilly  when  we  get  back  from  the 
Amazon  with  all  our  loot.'' 

**A11  right.  With  special  alcoves  for  ex-presi- 
dents and  revolutionaries.  Ware,  you  could  gather 
in  all  the  Brazilian  exiles." 

**They  don't  exile  people  from  Brazil,"  pro- 
tested Ware,  but  was  chidden. 

* 'Don't  undermine  the  faith  of  our  childhood! 
You  know  they  do!  Any  newspaper  says  so.  All 
South  American  countries  are  always  having  rev- 
olutions, and  every  man  big  enough  to  carry  a  gun 
goes  about  shooting  presidents.  We  know  it.  Any 
shilling  novel  with  the  word  South  Aiherica  in  it 
says  so."  He  looked  at  his  wife.  '^Francina,  you 
look  ill.  Are  you  tired,  honey?" 

**No.  It's  that  horrid  new  rouge  betrayed  me.  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  look  at  me.  How  I  do  envy 
women  who  are  downright  plain!  Nobody  minds 
if  they  go  about  looking  like  scarecrows.  Their 
husbands  like  them  just  as  well  if  their  hair  is  a 
sight  and  their  noses  shiny.  But  if  I  don't  look 
like  a  new  doll  Salvatore  is  furious." 

''That's  the  worst  of  being  a  reputed  beauty, 
my  dear,"  Mrs.  Grenville  smiled  with  tight  lips, 
but  Francina  was  unruffled. 

**Yes,  that's  just  it.  Let  me  go  while  I  have  a 
shred  of  that  reputation  left.  ..." 


THEY  sailed  on  a  raw  morning  a  few  days 
before  Christmas.  For  nearly  a  week  bad 
weather  and  choppy  seas  prevailed,  and,  with  the 
steamer  rolling  and  pitching  in  the  sea  troughs, 
Francina  kept  her  word  and  stayed  in  bed.  But 
Margarita,  with  amateur's  luck,  found  herself 
with  sea  legs  after  the  second  day.  The  decks  were 
impossible,  swept  by  gusts  and  slippery  with  ice; 
she  spent  most  of  each  day  in  a  corner  in  company 
with  a  Portuguese  dictionary  and  a  copy  of  Inno- 
cencia. 

When  the  weather  cleared  and  the  decks  dried 
under  the  ministrations  of  a  searching  sun,  the 
tables  began  to  be  filled  at  meal  times  with  people 
who  glanced  at  each  other  with  the  pessimism  of 
the  experienced  traveler.  The  boat,  of  a  line  that 
cared  more  for  cargo  than  passengers,  was  limited 
in  saloon  capacity  and  the  crowd  was  small  al- 
though varied.  It  included  a  group  of  Portuguese, 
pale,  stout  men  with  oval  faces;  a  couple  of  exqui- 
sitely dressed  young  Austrian  women  who  scarcely 
appeared  except  at  meals,  bore  themselves 
with  an  impossible  air  of  inimical  reserve,  and 
only  spoke  to  exchange  a  few  sentences  in  French 
with  each  other;  a  few  Brazilians  of  the  North,  in 
Paris-made  clothes,  wearing  the  tiniest  polished 
buttoned  boots;  an  American  drummer,  taking 
jewelry  to  the  Amazon,  owner  of  an  immense  dia- 
mond scarf  pin  and  a  gray  leather  face;  a  Swiss, 
very    lively  and  talljative,  partner  in  a  rubber 

55 


56  BLACK  GOLD 

house  at  Manaos,  with  a  bleached  appearance  as 
if  he  had  been  grown  in  the  dark. 

Two  of  the  Brazilians  and  the  Swiss  commer- 
ciante  were  known  to  "Ware,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  the  sociable  Salvatore  had  taken  them  to 
his  bosom.  A  relative  of  the  younger  Brazilian, 
Affonso  Guimaraes  de  Freitas,  was  in  fact  one  of 
the  opera  company's  sponsors;  the  young  man, 
very  good  looking,  slim  and  dark,  appeared  to  be 
unable  to  take  his  eyes  from  the  back  of  Marga- 
rita's neck:  he  was  much  too  polite  to  stare  at  her 
pretty  face.  With  him  was  an  elderly  uncle,  Cus- 
todio  de  Freitas,  a  yellow,  wizened,  and  rather 
small  man  with  brilliant  eyes  and  a  manner  of 
such  kindness  that  women  instinctively  loved  and 
trusted  him.  Like  all  Brazilians  of  the  intelligent- 
sia, these  two  spoke  French  beautifully,  and  un- 
derstood English  and  German;  the  usual  working 
knowledge  of  English  had  in  their  cases  been  sup- 
plemented through  old-established  personal  rela- 
tions with  British  and  American  business  houses, 
and  Custodio  still  spoke  with  feeling  and  chas- 
tened respect  of  the  English  governess  of  his  youth 
who  had  taught  him  his  beautiful  flowing  pen- 
manship. It  was  he  who  had  made  his  nephew 
spend  a  couple  of  years  at  an  English  school  to 
learn  games,  before  going  to  Paris  to  complete  his 
education. 

For  Ware,  Margarita  came  into  perspective 
again  only  after  an  interval.  During  the  last  days 
of  preparation  as  in  the  first  adjustments  of  ship- 
board life  she  had  seemed  to  recede;  he  lost  the 
moorland  girl  in  a  maze  of  unfamiliar  gabbling 
people,  behind  piles  of  trunks,  in  a  whirl  of  small 
excitements. 

He  was  suddenly  conscious  of  recovering  her  on 


BLACK  GOLD  57 

an  evening  when,  looking  in  at  a  lighted  window 
from  the  darker  and  cooler  deck,  he  saw  her 
bright  head  and  curve  of  cheek  close  to  the  open- 
ing. She  stood  watching  a  rather  fierce  bridge 
game  from  which  Salvatore's  face  rose  trium- 
phant, beaming,  his  plumed  forehead  shining. 
Natural-born  citizen  of  the  world,  Salvatore  ab- 
sorbed his  social  medium  like  a  sponge. 

Ware  went  in  and  stood  beside  Margarita.  She 
wore  a  little  white  lace  dress,  her  arms  and  neck 
uncovered.  He  was  suddenly  pricked  to  conscious- 
ness of  her  physical  perfection,  but  this  renewed 
perception  was  almost  at  once  overlaid  by  a  more 
subtle  quality  of  magnetism,  a  quality  of  which 
her  nymphlike  air  of  withdrawal  was  a  constant 
denial.  He  saw  her  as  if  always  across  the  stream 
in  the  magic  garden,  half  seen  through  tall 
bushes. 

**You  don't  play  bridge T'  he  heard  himself  ask 
her  stupidly.  He  must  make  her  speak,  bring  her 
out  of  her  fastness. 

**I  am  afraid  to  play  cards.  I  have  too  much 
luck.  All  the  aces  come  to  me,''  she  answered 
under  her  breath,  giving  him  her  candid  eyes. 
Bravo!  She  had  run  across  the  stepping-stones, 
over  the  stream,  slipped  her  hand  into  his,  and 
was  again  walking  beside  him  on  secure  ground. 

*'0f  course!"  he  murmured,  and  then  spoke  the 
rest  of  his  thought  with  daring.  '*0f  course  you 
would  have  luck !  You,  a  moor  maiden,  in  league 
with  Pan  and  the  pixies.  Naturally,  they  slip  in 
and  give  you  everything  you  look  for.  ...  If  ever 
you  try  washing  for  gold  in  the  rivers  when  you 
get  to  Brazil,  you'll  find  your  pan  full  of  nuggets 
every  time." 

She  laughed  out  at  this  and  Salvatore,  sitting 


58  BLACK  GOLD 

back  watching  the  dealing,  turned  at  the  delicious 
sound,  took  Margarita's  hand  and  patted  it. 

** Blessed  little  mascot!  Stay  right  there,  Mar- 
gie darling, ' '  he  enjoined  her.  Ware  was  instantly 
conscious  of  an  impulse  to  beat  the  good  Salva- 
tore.  How  dared  he,  how  dared  any  man,  touch 
that  wonderful  girl!  Astonished  at  the  acuteness 
of  his  own  feeling,  he  stood  back  a  little  farther 
behind  Margarita,  regarding  her  as  she  bent  smil- 
ing over  Salvatore  's  shoulder.  He  tried  to  look  at 
her  with  the  eyes  of  other  people.  "What  did  thei/ 
see  in  herf — this  beautiful  piece  of  youth,  a  crea- 
ture who  was  apparently  very  simple  when  she 
presented  herself  to  you,  but  who  was  so  often  in 
the  act  of  retreat.  Was  it  only  he  who  could  realize 
her  possession  of  precious  qualities  that  melted 
the  heart  and  drew  the  soul?  .  .  .  her  extraordi- 
nary sense  of  values,  her  capacity  for  prizing 
things  hidden  from  or  neglected  by  most  people. 

He  repeated  to  himself,  doggedly,  that  she  was 
elementally  simple  when  he  could  definitely  bring 
her  to  his  side;  but  there  clung  about  her  some  in- 
tangible thing,  a  hint  of  mystery,  of  something 
perilous  and  entrancingly  promising,  that  made 
her  stand  apart,  inevitably,  among  a  crowd  of 
women.  Watching  the  gesture  of  her  lightly 
clasped  hands  as  she  answered  some  trivial  thing, 
he  said  to  himself  that  she  was  rather  a  still,  vir- 
ginal creature,  making  no  effort  at  all  to  use  her 
lovely  looks  as  many  much  younger  women  used 
theirs,  that  she  had,  really,  nothing  extraordinary 
to  say  in  that  tender  voice,  all  tones  of  rainbow 
and  pearl.  .  .  .  There  was  almost  a  veil  about 
her — no,  no,  he  had  been  right  before!  Not  a  veil, 
but  a  screen  of  golden-green  fluttering  leaves.  Be- 
yond them,  you  could  imagine  those  young  hands 


BLACK  GOLD  59 

raised  to  push  away  much  more  easily  than  you 
could  conceive  them  outstretched  to  embrace.  De- 
nial was  written  upon  that  leafy  screen — ^but  when 
she  gavel  He  was  convinced  that  when  she  did 
give  it  would  be  a  complete  giving.  Her  strange 
appeal  seemed  to  be  some  inner  sense  of  adven- 
ture, the  love  of  the  unknown,  of  the  withdrawn. 
To  get  into  real  communion  with  her,  if  you  were 
to  follow  her  instead  of  bringing  her  to  you,  what 
you  would  need  of  searching,  of  pursuit  in  im- 
mense distances!  She  called  to  all  desire  of  the 
unspeakable  joys  and  dangers  of  far  journeying. 

Margarita  turned  and  asked  him  some  small 
question.  He,  at  the  same  time  that  he  answered 
coherently,  became  vividly  ^ware  of  the  exquisite 
lines  of  her  eyes  and  brows,  seemed  to  plunge  deep 
into  that  clear  blue,  into  the  tremendous  depths 
of  enchanted  seas.  Seeking,  seeking,  with  a 
breathless,  suspended  hope  of  finding,  at  last, 
something  splendid  and  dazzling  ...  he  came  up 
like  a  half-drowned  man,  his  heart  struggling, 
when  she  had  finished  speaking. 

She  had  said:  ''It's  so  hot  in  here.  Will  you 
come  and  walk  outsider'  and  he  had  agreed  and 
asked  if  she  had  a  wrap,  it  appeared,  for  he  found 
himself  blindly  picking  up  a  furry  garment  frcm 
a  settee,  holding  it  in  trembling  hands  as  she  kid 
her  throat  in  it,  swinging  back  a  door  for  her  and 
following  her  into  the  still  dark  night,  with  the 
sea  racing  past  in  long  flares  of  phosphorescence. 

Here,  as  they  began  to  pace  the  deck,  an  idea 
came  to  him  with  extreme  vividness.  ''I  am  in 
love  with  this  girl.  I  have  loved  her,  of  course, 
from  the  beginning.  But  now  I  am  in  love." 

He  felt  a  little  annoyed.  This  was  a  queer,  an 
unforeseen  accident.  Love  of  this  sort  was  danger- 


60  BLACK  GOLD 

ous,  a  source  of  weakness,  almost  an  abasement 
of  the  spirit ...  it  wasn't  as  if  he  was  a  schoolboy, 
without  any  experience.  And  now  he  had  other 
things  to  do,  preoccupations,  a  path  marked  out 
with  no  time  for  strayings  in  witched  lands.  And 
Margarita  herself!  He  wouldn't  dream  of  disturb- 
ing her,  even  if  he  could.  He  felt  as  if  he  were 
arguing  with  fate,  as  he  made  a  kind  of  mental 
bargain — a  little  of  her  company,  the  sound  of  her 
voice  for  a  few  times — that  surely  could  not  be 
grudged  to  him. 

**Did  she  like  the  steamer?"  Idiotic  question! 
But  one  must  speak.  It  appeared  that  she  didn't 
very  much.  **Such  a  stuffy  place  to  sleep  in.  And 
planks  to  walk  upon.  And  being  so  close  to  so 
many  people.  I  think  I  am  not  quite  happy  when 
my  feet  are  not  on  the  earth.  Or  when  I  am  out  of 
the  sight  and  smell  of  trees.  Perhaps  shut-in  places 
are  always  rather  terrible  ..." 

He  sympathized  hastily,  seeking  bases  for 
agreement.  **  Yes,  and  the  food  too,  partly,  I  dare- 
say. I'm  afraid  that  if  you  find  yourself  turning 
out  to  be  unconquerably  British,  you'll  find  you 
miss  food,  certain  things  at  least,  and  fires.  When 
I've  been  a  long  time  in  the  tropics  I  always  begin 
to  pine  for  smoked  haddock  and  kippered  herrings 
— and  a  well-hung  saddle  of  mutton.  And  cold 
grouse  for  breakfast.  .  .  .  There  really  is  no  com- 
pensation. But  especially  fires.  When  you  see  the 
sun,  day  after  day,  blazing  away  implacably  in  a 
steel  sky,  you  long  for  clouds  and  the  endless  mir- 
acle of  flame  and  smoke  at  your  own  hearth, 
stirred  up  by  a  poker." 

She  smiled  at  him.  ''I  don't  mind  that — ^yet. 
But  I  have  rather  a  bad  conscience  because  I  don't 
appreciate  engine  rooms.    I  ought  to  be  ashamed, 


BLACK  GOLD  61 

but  the  truth  is  that  I  am  so  much  of  a  savage 
that  I  can't  even  be  astonished  at  big  mechanisms. 
They  seem  to  me  like  tides  or  a  volcano;  I  can't 
begin  to  understand  the  origin  and  accomplish- 
ment of  them,  and  just  accept  it.  Canoes,  now . . .! 
It's  wonderful  to  drive  a  boat  forward  with  a  pad- 
dle. And  beautiful,  because  the  water  is  so  near 
and  friendly.  .  .  .  Here  the  sea  might  just  as  well 
be  painted.  One  rushes  along  in  a  stuffy  series  of 
too-much-lighted  rooms." 

Salvatore,  unable  to  bear  the  agony  of  the 
dummy,  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  the  smoking 
room  and  beamed  upon  them  as  they  approached 
and  Ware  rejoined:  *'Yes,  one  is  frightfully  sur- 
rounded on  board  ship." 

Salvatore  laughed  aloud.  ** That's  the  word! 
Surrounded !  Worst  place  on  the  world  for  a  flirta- 
tion. I've  tried  it.  Not  a  square  inch  anywhere 
that  isn't  under  observation  from  somewhere.  You 
take  my  advice." 

As  they  walked  silently,  Francina  appeared  at 
the  stateroom  entrance,  her  arm  about  the  waist 
of  Beatriz,  pale  and  languid,  announcing  herself 
as  merely  emerged  for  a  minute  to  take  the  air 
before  she  went  back  to  bed.  She  permitted  Ware 
to  pull  out  a  chair,  hunt  for  and  arrange  rugs  and 
cushions,  and  rewarded  him  with  a  magnificently 
gracious  smile,  a  trifle  wasted  upon  his  detached 
courtesy.  When  he  went  on  again,  leaving  Mar- 
garita at  her  side,  Beatriz  turned  her  eyes  from 
his  retreating  back  and  said  in  her  sleepy  voice: 
**Mr.  Ware  does  not  please  you?" 

Francina  considered.  She  was  usually  frank, 
partly  as  the  result  of  early  training  in  an  open- 
hearted  household,  and  partly  because  she  was  in- 
clined to  ruthlessness.  But  now  she  fenced  for  a 


62  BLACK  GOLD 

moment.    *'But  he  does  please  pou,  Beatriz?" 
Beatriz  glanced  at  the  face  of  Margarita  as  she 
replied  slowly: 

**Yes.  Because  he  is  the  sort  of  man  who  always 
knows  when  trains  start  and  is  quietly  at  hand 
with  tickets  and  a  seat  on  the  right  side,  and  then 
goes  away  without  fussing.  I  hate  effusive  men. 
I  am  sure  he  would  appear  with  sandwiches  and 
a  motor  car  in  the  middle  of  Africa  if  one  hap- 
pened to  be  lost,  and  would  never  mention  it  after- 
wards. ' ' 

**  You  are  a  man  hater,  Beatriz,"  declared  Fran- 
cina. 

*^No.  I  am  not  interested  in  them.  I  only  want 
men  to  be  useful.  To  do  the  odd  jobs  that  it's  so 
tiresome  to  do  for  one 's  self. ' ' 

'*If  that  were  my  chief  requirement,  I  shouldn't 
get  it  from  my  Salvatore,  should  I!''  said  Fran- 
cina.  '^He's  always  asleep  or  has  his  head  in  the 
piano  just  when  I  am  expiring  from  struggles 
with  the  luggage.  It's  true  that  Mr.  Ware's  fright- 
fully useful  .  .  .  but  it  always  seems  to  me  that 
he  has  his  eyebrows  lifted.  He  does  not  really  bow 
down.  And  what  I  consider  the  prime  duty  of 
man" — she  laughed  but  was  emphatic  about  it — 
**is  blind  adoration.  He  has  no  idea  of  it." 

'*Ah,  no,"  agreed  Beatriz  comfortably,  closing 
her  eyes  and  not  following  Francina's  drift.  That 
lady,  however,  continued  to  track  it,  her  fair  head 
against  Margarita's  shoulder.  She  did  not  care 
greatly  for  the  friendship  between  the  girl  and 
Ware,  regarding  him  always  with  a  hint  of  sus- 
picion, as  a  man  who  demanded  sportsmanship  of 
women  when  he  asked  anything  at  all,  and  gave 
comradeship  rather  than  homage.  She  suspected 
him  of  being  the  kind  who  judged  women  by  men's 


BLACK  GOLD  63 

standards,  who  wanted  them  to  be  truthful,  fair- 
dealing,  to  play  the  game.  She  said  aloud  after  a 
moment:  *'I  think  John  Ware  really  wants  women 
to  be  gentlemen." 

Margarita  suddenly  laughed.  *'0h,  no,  Francie! 
Indeed,  he  hasn't  any  such  idea.  I  know  what  he 

thinks.    He  thinks "    She  stopped,  suddenly 

struck  with  the  consciousness  that  she  could  not 
say  what  she  had  begun  to  say,  could  not  tell  Fran- 
cina  this,  could  not  explain  a  thing  that  was  still 
strange  to  herself.  ^'It's  too  long,  and  I  am  sleepy. 
I  am  going  to  bed.  Good  night!''  She  ran  from 
their  protests,  but  stood  a  long  minute  on  the 
threshold,  looking  at  a  newly  risen  bent  moon  and 
completing,  to  herself,  the  rest  of  her  sentence, 
smiling. 

**He  thinks  we  are  the  earth.  To  which  he  must 
return.'* 

A  week  out  from  British  shores,  the  ship 's  food 
underwent  that  strange  chemical  change  peculiar 
to  the  sea,  when  everything  tastes  just  alike  and 
it  is  only  possible  to  distinguish  a  jam  omelette 
from  a  kippered  herring  by  the  eye.  After  that 
period  the  smoking  room  talks,  although  periodic- 
ally ameliorated  by  the  attentions  of  the  bar,  took 
on  more  pungency. 

The  eternal  question  of  every  new  country,  that 
of  the  desirable  settler,  cropped  up  more  than 
once.  Custodio  de  Freitas,  gentle-mannered  but 
acutely  logical,  defended  the  experiments  of  South 
Brazil.  **We  had  to  find  out  who  suited  the  soil 
best,  and  would  live  there  and  multiply.  .  .  . 
Naturally  we  brought  in  Germans,  and  they  are 
excellent  colonists  because  they  remain  and  fill 
the  country.  Of  course  we  admire  the  English,  and 


64  BLACK  GOLD 

we  appreciate  all  their  tremendous  work  for  us, 
but  you  know  very  well  that  the  English  always 
will  go  home.*' 

Ware  backed  him  up.  ^  *  Of  course,  you  are  right. 
But  remember  that  most  of  us  don't  come  here  as 
agricultural  settlers,  like  your  colonies  of  Ger- 
mans and  Scandinavians  and  Slavs  in  South  Bra- 
zil and  Argentina.  We  are  mostly  merchants,  or 
engineers  building  railroads,  or  agents  of  some  big 
company.  .  .  .'* 

*'Ah,  yes!  The  French  and  half  of  the  Italians 
are  the  same.  Always  with  one  foot  in  the  sea,  try- 
ing to  make  money  to  take  home." 

** Isn't  that  on  account  of  a  feeling  that  you  Bra- 
zilians appreciate  tremendously — ^love  of  one's 
own  country?" 

The  little  parchment  face  of  Custodio  softened. 
**Yes,  there  is  something  in  what  you  say.  I  sym- 
pathize with  patriotic  feeling,  naturally.  But  let 
me  simply  consider  the  question  as  one  concern- 
ing only  the  good  of  Brazil.  We  who  have  land 
and  few  people,  able  and  willing  to  absorb  the 
overflow  of  half  Europe,  are  inclined  to  prefer  the 
people  who  stay  with  us  rather  than  those  who  get 
rich  and  go.  .  .  .  I  know  very  well  what  you  might 
say:  that  they  have  created  much  more  wealth 
than  they  take  away.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  that, 
too.  But  the  fact  remains  that  we  need  blood,  we 
must  have  more  people.  It's  the  lack  of  all  the 
Americas;  we  have  all  offered  to  Europe  good  land 
in  exchange  for  strong  arms.  I  don't  say  that  there 
is  any  obligation  on  either  side,  necessarily,  if  af- 
fection does  not  exist,  but  I  do  know  what  Brazil 
wants." 

**We  don't  want  mere  traders,  that's  one  cer- 
tain thing,"  interjected  Alfonso.    **The  Portu- 


BLACK  GOLD  65 

guese  petty  trader  used  to  be  something  of  a  curse, 
but  nowadays  he  has  melted  like  snow  before  the 
Armenian  and  Syrian.  They  can  bargain  anybody 
out  of  existence.  There  is  not  another  trader  who 
can  endure  where  they  come.  Jews?  Dios,  no! 
You  don't  find  Jews  traversing  the  interior  water- 
ways: far  too  fond  of  their  comfort.  They  are  no 
pioneers.  They  are  city  dwellers,  and  a  country 
like  Brazil  does  not  attract  them  very  much  until 
it  has  been  warmed  up  by  a  few  centuries  of  other 
people 's  lives. ' ' 

**In  New  York  one  man  in  every  three  is  a 
Jew,"  stated  the  American  drummer  with  solem- 
nity. ^'JSTow  in  Chicago.  ..."  He  paused  to 
adjust  his  cigar  and  John  "Ware  spoke  quickly, 
conciliatory  eyes  on  the  Brazilians. 

**Your  settlers  will  all  be  absorbed  in  a  genera- 
tion, your  southerly  settlers.  But  in  the  hot 
regions,  you  don't  really  expect  people  to  stay. 
The  best  any  stranger  can  do  for  you  there  is  to 
help  to  construct.  ..." 

'*I  know!  You  are  right.  We  don't  forget  that 
your  countrymen  have  built,  Senhor  Ware.  We 
always  say  that  if  a  cataclysm  of  heaven  were  to 
suddenly  remove  all  the  other  foreigners,  there 
would  be  nothing  left  as  a  memorial  of  them  but 
a  row  of  empty  shelves  in  a  store ;  but  the  English 
would  leave  behind  them  docks  and  railways." 

Max    Denis    barked    with    sudden    laughter. 
** Memorials  to  dead  men  don't  do  them  much! 
good!" 

'*Who  is  dead  if  his  memorial  survives?"  Cus- 
todio  was  emphatic.  ''If  what  the  new  Soilth. 
American  countries  really  want  is  population — ^ 
and  I  wonder  how  soon  you'll  all  be  regretting 
your  nice  clean  wide  spaces  and  forests — you  have 


Be  BLACK  GOLD 

still  got  a  case  for  defending  your  Teutons,  even 
in  the  hot  regions  where  they  make  money  and  go 
home  like  everybody  else/'  suggested  Denis,  acid 
under  his  tongue.  'VThey  always  leave  something 
behind." 

*'0h,  well '\  ^ 

He  went  on,  reminiscent:  **IVe  seen  them  all 
over  the  world.  Get  a  girl  for  a  haus-f rau,  and  at 
the  end  of  six  or  seven  years  home  they  go,  taking 
the  boy  that  looks  most  like  papa  for  a  souvenir. 
There  must  be  a  lot  of  them  in  Hamburg.  Rough 
on  the  women?  Lord,  no;  why?  They're  not 
chosen  from  a  stratum  where  they  would  lose 
caste.  Isn't  that  true  in  Brazil,  Senhor  Freitas?" 

The  elder  Brazilian  acquiesced,  his  smile  a  little 
wry. 

**Yes,  yes,  no  doubt." 

Denis  took  a  long  drink  of  whisky  and  soda 
and  was  moved  to  delivery  of  opinion,  nobody  else 
having  anything  to  say.  The  rain  beat  on  the  win- 
dows, the  steamer  churned  steadily  through  heavy 
seas,  and  the  room  was  heavy  with  smoke. 

** There's  a  lot  of  misery  in  the  world  resulting 
from  confused  ideas  of  morality.  Women  have  two 
chief  roles:  that  of  permanent  mistress  of  a  home 
and  that  of  an  agreeable  companion,  temporary 
soother.  ..." 

*'A  few  million  women  earn  their  own  living?" 
suggested  Ware.  Denis  waved  away  the  thought. 
**  Ridiculous!  Destruction  of  society  ..."  taking 
only  a  trifle  more  kindly  Affonso's,  **  Wives 
can't  be  agreeable?" 

*'It's  at  least  not  necessary  that  they  should  be. 
They  have  a  quite  different  function.  Lots  of  men, 
especially  mal-educated  Englishmen,  don't  under- 
stand that.  Lonely  in  some  foreign  land,  they  get 


BLACK  GOLD  67 

consoled  "by  some  girl  and  think  they  must  marry 
her — and  live  miserably  in  the  middle  of  a  family 
they  can't  take  home,  and  die  of  bad  rum  and  re- 
grets. I'm  thinking  of  a  case  I  knew  in  Java.  .  .  . 
Or  else  they  live  lonely  and  become  cantankerous." 

Somebody  laughed,  but  Denis  insisted.  **  Some- 
thing of  that  sort  is  the  nightmare  of  every  man 
who  lives  in  some  foreign  tropical  land  where  he 
can't  take  out  a  white  wife.  It's  mine  too.  I  am 
frightened  to  death  that  I  shall  have  to  work  for  a 
fortune  until  I  am  fifty  and  bald,  and  then  I  shall 
fall  in  love  with  some  minx  who  will  make  a  fool 
of  me." 

*^That  is  interesting  as  the  foreigner's  point  of 
view,"  smiled  Custodio  de  Freitas,  and  Denis 
went  on  quickly: 

**When  I  go  back  to  Geneva  next  year  I  shall 
choose  a  girl  and  start  the  nucleus  of  a  family.  I 
wish  I  had  thought  of  it  ten  years  ago.  She  will 
stay  at  home  and  mind  the  children,  and  I  shall 
run  over  every  twelve  months.  Then  when  I  have 
at  last  lost  all  the  money  I've  made  in  rubber 
booms  on  some  railway  scheme,  there'll  be  a 
grown-up  family  to  work  for  me." 

*'You  will  have  to  choose  the  lady  carefully," 
Salvatore  thought.  ^^In  case  she  might  not  see  eye 
to  eye  with  you  while  you  were  being  true  to  her 
from  a  distance." 

Denis  flushed  a  trifle  but  stuck  to  his  guns. 
*' Naturally  I  shall  pick  out  a  very  well  brought- 
up  girl.  As  to  me,  I  tell  you  it  does  not  matter. 
It's  of  no  consequence.  Endless  misery,  endless 
through  all  the  ages,  has  come  from  people  being 
true  to  each  other.  It's  a  mental  obstinacy,  not  a 
thing  of  the  heart  or  the  body.  It's  a  crime  for  a 
man  to  be  true  to  a  woman  he  is  parted  from 


B8  BLACK  GOLD 

"unless  he  loves  her  so  much  that  all  other  womeii 
are  colorless  shadows.  Terrific  love  is  the  only 
excuse  for  fidelity,  bodily  fidelity.  "Without  that, 
faithfulness  is  very  material,  a  forced  faithfulness 
to  a  mere  pair  of  arms,  when  the  only  thing  worth 
while  being  true  to  is  an  idea,  a  dream.  Be  true  to 
a  woman  you  have  never  kissed,  if  you  like.  Glo- 
rious !  But  physical  fidelity  on  account  of  a  tie— » 
very  coarse  and  debasing.'' 

He  rose  and  went  out  of  the  door,  followed  by 
laughter. 


VI 

A  FEW  days  later  Margarita,  curled  in  her  cor- 
ner of  the  library  with  the  dictionary,  listened 
to  another  heated  conversation. 

'* England,"  declared  Custodio  de  Freitas,  with 
a  sly  glance  at  her,  *^owes  her  colonial  empire  to 
the  habit  of  drinking  tea."  He  was  assailed  by 
Denis:  '^No,  to  her  abominable  climate." 

Ware  interjected:  ^'I  think  it's  the  public 
schools.  The  life  there  is  absolutely  primitive — 
an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth:  and  then 
every  boy  has  it  ground  into  him  that  he  must 
never  put  up  a  bluff  that  he  can't  carry  through. 
Never  put  up  a  bluff  at  all,  in  fact.  Priceless  les- 
sons in  dealing  with  native  races." 

Custodio  half  accepted  this.  ''There  is  some- 
thing in  what  you  say,  but  all  the  same  the  tea 
basis  is  there  too.  England  has  developed  those 
unique  schools  because  she  is  both  sporting  and 
scholarly,  and  no  nation  can  possess  both  those 
qualities  without  long  evenings,  and  you  cannot 
have  long  evenings  without  tea."  There  was  a 
general  laugh  at  this,  but  he  was  serious. 

''England  claims  two-thirds  of  the  great  poets 
of  the  whole  world.  Half  the  philosophers,  most 
of  the  inventors,  and  at  the  same  time  everybody 
plays  games.  Why?  Because  of  the  long  light 
evenings  in  summer,  and  evenings  just  as  long  by 
the  fire  in  winter,  when  people  really  study  oV 
talk.    That  can  never  occur  in  hot  climates  or 

6d 


70  BLACK  GOLD 

steam-heated  countries;  they  have  nothing  to  cen- 
ter about,  and  no  time. ' ' 

^*The  day's  twenty-four  hours  long  all  over  the 
world,"  said  Max  Denis. 

*^Ah,  but  long  evenings  don't  exist  without  tea. 
In  lands  where  nobody  drinks  tea,  we  have  dinner 
early  at  six-thirty  or  seven,  eat  such  a  lot  that  we 
are  torpid  afterwards  and  fit  for  nothing  but 
sleep  or  vaudeville.  But  the  Englishman  comes 
home  from  his  daily  work,  forgets  it,  drinks  tea, 
and  is  ready  for  three  or  four  hours  of  some  other 
^occupation  before  he  has  a  big  meal.  He  walks  or 
Tides  in  the  country,  learns  it  by  heart,  loves  it.  It 
is  the  absorbing  passion  of  the  Englishman,  that 
love  of  the  very  soil  learned  during  those  evening 
walks.  I  am  sure  it  is  for  the  memory  of  wild 
roses  or  the  call  of  a  thrush  that  the  Englishman 
sacrifices  his  blood  without  hesitation,  and  not 
for  Britain  the  political  entity.  ..." 

''Nobody  thinks  of  his  country  as  a  political 
entity, ' '  protested  Max. 

''At  least  the  newspapers  talk  as  if  people  did. 
Of  course,  a  great  deal  of  so-called  patriotism  is 
either  cantankerousness  or  vanity — nevertheless  I 
am  sure  that  the  English  love  England  because 
of  those  summer  evenings  after  tea,  and  that  they 
are  scholars  because  of  the  fireside.  They  form 
ideas  and  habits  that  are  lifelong." 

"I  knew  a  man  once  in  Pernambuco,"  Denis 
said,  "who  managed  a  sugar  plantation.  He  lived 
alone  for  nine  years.  He  dressed  every  day  as  if 
he  was  a  country  squire  in  England,  always  drank 
tea  at  half -past  four,  kept  a  diary,  had  the  Times 
sent  out  to  him  in  weekly  batches,  and  read  noth- 
ing else.  He  used  to  put  on  evening  clothes  every 
night — all  by  himself,  mind." 


BLACK  GOLD  71 

'*  Exactly.  A  man  of  character  formed  by  tea, 
Just  what  I  was  telling  you/'  Custodio  smiled. 

'^But  I  think  he  was  an  idiot.'' 

*'I  don't  care  Avhether  it  was  sensible  or  not,  but 
it  did  show  character,  and  that  is  the  point.  Char- 
acter is,  after  all,  the  one  rock  upon  which  all 
nations  must  build  if  they  are  going  to  last." 

Alfonso  had  something  to  say.  **My  dear  uncle 
is  always  worrying  himself  about  the  future  of  the 
world.  But  it  isn't  going  to  be  worth  living  in  if 
we  are  going  to  spend  our  time  taking  thought  for 
the  morrow.  When  that  morrow  comes  we  shall  be 
dead  of  some  nervous  disease  or  too  exhausted  to 
take  any  pleasure  in  success.  Really,  one  would 
make  life  into  a  nightmare." 

*^  It  is  a  nightmare,  with  every  nation  trying  to 
cut  the  other's  throat  for  commercial  reasons,  and 
being  compelled  to  do  it,  too.  Even  they  who  love 
peace  and  beauty  and  want  to  live  agreeably  in 
the  world  as  it  exists." 

*^I  shall  choose  a  desert  island,"  declared 
Aff onso, ' '  when  things  come  to  that  pitch.  We  can 
still  keep  out  of  your  nightmare  of  cutthroats  on 
the  Amazon." 

**No,  no,  that  we  can't  do!"  Max  Denis  objected. 
*^We  live  by  the  outside  world  now,  and  if  we  are 
having  luxurious  times  it  is  for  some  obscure  rea- 
son of  the  financial  manipulators  far  away.  .  .  . 
They  could  ruin  us  all,  and  they  may.  The  Ama- 
zon is  nothing  but  a  pawn  in  the  hands  of  a  group 
of  determined  men  thousands  of  miles  distant." 

'*I  don't  quite  agree  with  you  there,"  Custodio 
demurred.  *^  *  Something  always  happens  to  help 
the  Amazon,'  you  know.  But  it  is  true  that  every- 
one must  learn  to  fight,  or  go  down.  There's 
China,  for  instance. ' ' 


72  BLACK  GOLD 

"Still  carving  ivory. '^ 

"Yes,  and  wishing  to  remain  a  nation  of  phil- 
osophers and  embroiderers  of  exquisite  silks.  Now 
what  is  happening?  The  whole  outside  world  is 
working  itself  up  to  a  state  of  being  terribly 
shocked  and  disgusted  with  China,  because  she 
wishes  not  to  be  made  modern.  All  the  industrial 
nations  are  holding  up  their  hands  and  saying  how 
reprehensible  it  is  that  China  should  have  no  steel 
factories.  A  frightful  crime !  It  is  their  Christian 
duty  to  bring  such  a  scandal  to  an  end.'* 

"They  will  do  it,  men  caro.  She  will  be  carved 
up." 

"Except  perhaps  for  one  thing,"  Ware  sug- 
gested. "There  are  four  hundred  million  Chi- 
nese, and  they  may  swallow  up  everybody  who 
comes  along." 

"Look  at  the  Japanese,  what  a  difference!  They 
didn't  refuse  mechanisms;  took  them  to  their 
hearts  and  copied  them.  Now  everyone's  begin- 
ning to  be  afraid,  or  to  say  they  are,  because  the 
Japanese  have  done  just  what  everybody  insisted 
on  their  doing.  They  fear  them  for  the  devices 
they  have  taught  them,  hate  them  for  their  thrift 
and  industry." 

"Are  you  sure  it's  that?  Not  the  color  line?" 

"We  Brazilians  do  not  see  a  color  line,"  said 
iCustodio.  "No,  I  am  sure  it  is  not  that.  It  is  their 
offensive  virtues.  Not  their  vices.  All  the  objec- 
tion to  them  is  that  they  are  hard-working,  thrifty, 
don't  spend  money  on  drink,  and  love  their  own 
country.  .  .  .  All  the  same,  hated  or  not,  you  will 
isee  that  they  will  be  great  because  they  mean  to 
be.  As  to  the  nice,  agreeable  people — lambs  for 
the  slaughter!" 

"I  am  a  merchant,  but  I  often  think  that  com- 


BLACK  GOLD  73 

mercialism  is  a  most  hateful  thing,*'  said  Max 
Denis.  *'I  agree  with  you  in  that  it  is  a  remorse- 
less fight,  much  more  remorseless  than  a  real  field 
of  battle.  But  it's  amusing." 

'^My  point  of  view  is  that  of  the  planter,  the 
producer, ' '  said  "Ware.  ^  *  I  don 't  know  much  about 
the  market  side  of  things.  But  it  has  often  struck 
me  what  a  queer  artificial  structure  has  been  built 
up.  When  one  thinks  of  all  the  trains  and  steam- 
ers rushing  about  over  the  earth  and  sea,  carrying 
people  backwards  and  forwards  with  their  minds 
fixed  on  selling  something,  the  cargo  space  full  of 
materials  dragged  from  one  part  of  the  world  to 
the  other  ...  for  really  no  very  necessary 
reason. ' ' 

'^Oh,  oh,  commercial  exchange  is  indispens- 
able.'' 

''Now,  yes,  but  it  has  all  been  built  up  upon  in- 
vented needs.  The  world  did  get  along  without  all 
these  efforts  that  you  and  I  are  making  to  pro- 
duce and  ship  materials.  .  .  .  Think  of  it!  Iron 
from  one  place,  coal  and  goatskins  and  diamonds 
from  somewhere  else — much  of  it  for  the  sake  of 
some  trader  making  a  profit  in  imaginary  money 
by  persuading  people  that  they  want  something 
that  they  haven't  got.  They  tickle  the  acquisitive 
faculty  of  the  world.  And  here  are  millions  of  men 
and  women  loading  themselves  up  with  rubbish, 
filling  houses  with  bits  of  silk  and  polished  wood 
and  glass  and  silver  and  delivering  up  their  whole 
lives  to  all  that  collection  of  dead  stuff  .  .  .  Half 
the  people  on  the  globe  allow  themselves  to  be 
talked  into  believing  that  they  must  own  these 
things.  And  what's  the  truth?  All  such  property 
is  a  peg  in  the  foot.  A  peg,  nothing  more." 

At  that  moment  the  tinkle  of  cups  sounded. 


74  BLACK  GOLD 

Margarita  rose,  held  out  her  hand  to  Custodio. 
**  After  what  you  said,  you  must  come  and  have 
tea  with  me,"  she  laughed,  knowing  well  that  his 
gallantry  would  drive  him  even  to  that  desperate 
deed. 

That  night  they  saw  the  Southern  Cross  lying 
across  a  sapphire  sky. 


vn 

ON  a  brilliant  afternoon  a  few  days  later 
Affonso  Guimaraes  came  to  Margarita's  Jeck 
corner.  Dressed  in  shining  white,  his  olive  skin 
and  black  hair  set  off  to  better  advantage  than  in 
the  smothering  formal  clothes  of  midwinter 
Europe,  he  seemed  to  be  a  taller  and  more  assured 
man.  He  had  something  of  the  proprietor's  air 
about  him,  too,  she  thought. 

'^Do  you  want  to  see  the  Amazon?  Here  it  is, 
come  to  meet  us,''  he  said.  Going  with  him  to  the 
rail,  her  eyes  followed  his  directing  hand.  All  the 
sea  was  changed  from  its  Atlantic  transparent 
gray-blue  to  a  heavy  lead  color,  thickly  streaked 
with  turgid  yellow. 

He  explained  in  his  slow,  rather  studied  Eng- 
lish: *'Here  it  is,  you  see,  two  hundred  miles  be- 
yond the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  sea,  even  this 
immense  sea,  can  do  nothing  against  the  heavy 
Amazon  water.  There  is  nothing  democratic  about 
our  Amazon — it  is  a  conqueror,  proud  of  its  golden 
blood,  pushing  aside  every  other  thing.  In  a  few 
hours  you  will  see  no  more  traces  of  blue  sea- 
water;  we  shall  be  riding  upon  the  native,  intact 
body  of  our  rio  das  AmazonasJ^ 

He  kindled  visibly  as  he  said  it.  The  air  of  a 
proprietor  waxed.  It  was  his  river,  his  people's 
river,  and  he  felt  not  only  that  it  had  made  him, 
but  that  he  had  had  a  hand  in  making  it.  It 
wouldn't  have  been  quite  the  same  thing  if  it  had 
not  belonged  to  the  Brazilians. 

75 


76  BLACK  GOLD 

She  gave  him  an  innocent  smile.  **It  doesn't 
seem  to  have  much  conscience  about  taking  your 
land  away — look,  there's  a  little  island  just  float- 
ing past.  What  a  fearful  lot  of  land  it  must  have 
washed  away,  to  be  so  muddy!" 

He  waved  a  generous  hand.  **We  can  spare  it. 
Besides,  perhaps  it's  Peruvian."  He  took  her  back 
to  her  chair,  bent  over  her  hand,  and  kissed  it 
discreetly. 

**More  beautiful  things  go  up  the  river  than 
ever  come  down,"  he  said.  **May  you  return,  if 
return  you  will  and  must,  in  health  and  joy." 

John  Ware,  pacing  the  deck  at  this  sentimental 
moment,  looked  coolly  at  the  bent  back  and  met 
Margarita's  eyes  without  the  slightest  relaxation 
of  his  impassive  face.  He  didn't  even  pay  her  the 
compliment  of  noticing  what  she  did,  she  said  in 
her  heart,  and  experienced  a  feeling  of  desolation 
and  anger  that  astonished  her.  She  smiled  upon 
the  Brazilian,  but  answered  him  at  such  random 
thenceforth  that  he  presently  left  her  tactfully. 
She  stared  at  the  ever-yellowing  flood  that  swept 
the  ship's  side  until  Salvatore  came  panting  up 
the  stairs,  out  of  temper  after  sleeping  too  long  in 
a  hot  cabin,  to  shepherd  his  flock  below  to  the 
piano. 

**I  don't  expect  you  girls  can  sing  a  single  note 
decently,"  he  predicted  with  gloom,  ^*by  this 
time.  And  I've  known  more  than  one  good  con- 
tralto to  turn  into  a  rotten  soprano  in  a  hot  cli- 
mate. Now,  Bianca,  there 's  no  excuse  for  you  to 
sing  from  your  stomach  at  the  end  of  a  trip  like 
iliis.   ..." 

**My  sweet  husband!"  murmured  Francina. 
*' Prepare  for  death,  children."  But  by  some  acci- 
dent of  fate  the  out-of-tune  instrument  and  the 


BLACK  GOLD  77 

voices  of  the  three  girls  and  the  young  tenor 
sounded  well  in  those  fastidious  ears.  Soon  Sal- 
vatore,  shouting,  playing,  singing,  conducting, 
irradiated  in  smiles. 

' '  You  are  all  glorious !  I  never  heard  such  lovely 
tones  in  my  life — not  since  I  left  Macdougal 
Street,''  he  declared.  **  We  shall  make  some  money 
yet  this  trip,  girls.  You  see  if  we  don't.  We'll 
skin  them.  You  just  keep  your  head,  Bianca,  and 
do  what  I  say.  None  of  your  flighty  nonsense, 
now,  when  you  get  on  shore  and  meet  all  these 
rubber  millionaires  and  politicians  that  haven't 
seen  a  handsome  girl  like  you  for  six  years.  .  .  . 
You  take  my  advice."  An  unstable  peace 
descended  upon  the  party. 

The  Pomha  docked  at  crack  of  dawn  next  morn- 
ing and  her  passengers  woke  to  the  sound  of 
rattling  winches,  finding  the  vessel  already  un- 
loading. Crowded  against  the  wharf  side,  cheek 
by  jowl  with  two  other  overseas  ships,  she  was 
but  one  of  a  line  of  busy  shipping  edging  the 
water. 

The  shore,  sloping  upwards  from  the  wharf's 
side,  swarmed  with  men  of  all  colors  and  many 
races,  from  blue-black  Negro  to  white  Portuguese; 
most  of  them  were  cheerful,  olive-skinned  mesti- 
zos with  thick  black  hair,  fine  eyes  and  teeth. 
Lightly  dressed,  barefoot,  with  cotton  trousers 
and  shirts  open  at  the  neck,  streaming  with  per- 
spiration, they  shouted  and  called  with  laughter 
to  each  other  as  they  worked,  now  and  then  yell- 
ing and  gesticulating  with  excitement  that  seemed 
always  to  be  working  up  to  something  that  never 
happened. 

A  glaring  sun  soon  flooded  the  yellow  river, 
spread  a  haze  over  the  line  of  green  opposite  the 


78  BLACK  GOLD 

city,  and  touched  the  gray-colored  roofs.  Heat, 
damp  and  heavy,  descended  like  a  palpable  thing. 
Salvatore  went  ashore  as  quickly  as  he  could  to 
try  to  learn  news  of  the  Italia,  but  returned  with 
no  tidings.  She  had  not  arrived.  He  was  inclined 
to  be  gloomy  about  it:  **It  would  be  my  luck  if 
she  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic,  and  all 
that  good  money  I  spent  on  those  girls  wasted,'' 
he  sighed,  but,  femininely  soothed,  presently  re- 
covered and  consented  to  go  sight-seeing  ashore 
with  his  womenfolk. 

Most  of  the  Pomha's  passengers  were  going  to 
Manaos,  but  like  everyone  who  touches  at  a  tropic 
port  after  long  voyaging,  they  were  eager  to  get 
out  into  the  sunshine  and  to  pace  solid  pavements. 
Before  eight  o  'clock  the  carriages  and  automobiles 
plying  near  the  docks  had  swept  every  passenger 
into  the  city. 

Margarita  found  herself  sitting  with  her  sister 
and  John  Ware  in  a  smart  car,  that,  turning  from 
the  dock,  mounted  a  steep  incline  and  presently 
emerged  into  a  well-asphalted  straight  street.  She 
had  an  impression,  as  they  approached  one  of  the 
plazas,  of  extraordinary  deep  greenness.  A  mass 
of  verdure  stood  high  and  deep,  no  tamed  garden 
but  rather  a  slice  of  overbearing  forest.  Tall  palms 
with  pillared  trunks  and  fantastic,  enormous 
green  hands  extended  stiffly  rose  above  massive 
trees  crowded  with  glossy  foliage.  Through  the 
maze  of  green  could  be  seen  gnarled,  ancient  boles 
with  bright  tufts  of  air  plants  and  orchids  swarm- 
ing in  every  crevice.  Long  ropes  of  lianes  hung 
with  their  wide  leaves  curiously  motionless  in  the 
heavy  damp  air.  Strong  masses  of  lush  tropical 
plants  grew  among  the  knotted  roots;  the  whole 


BLACK  GOLD  79 

garden  dripped  and  exuded  moisture,  sweltering 
in  strangled  green. 

Beside  this  park  they  stopped,  to  enter  the  hotel 
for  breakfast.  The  theatre,  just  opposite,  was 
proudly  pointed  out,  a  valiant  erection  seen 
through  the  screen  of  trees.  Inside  a  cool  white 
room,  whose  long  doors  stood  open  to  the  pave- 
ment, they  sat  at  a  round  table  and  received  the 
discreet  glances  of  half  a  dozen  white-clad  men 
who  drank  tiny  cups  of  black  coffee. 

*^We  are  still  under  the  spell  of  the  English 
breakfast,''  said  Ware,  ordering  eggs  ao  prato 
and  guava  paste.  *^It  fades  under  Amazonian 
heat.  I  revert  to  South  American  food  customs 
directly  I  see  palm  trees  and  so  will  you.  .  .  . 
Before  you  know  where  you  are,  Antonelli,  you'll 
be  getting  up  at  five  in  the  morning,  drinking 
black  coffee,  doing  a  good  four  or  five  hours'  work, 
and  eating  a  seven-course  meal  at  eleven  o  'clock. ' ' 

** Heaven  forbid!"  Salvatore,  preoccupied,  re- 
fused to  go  sight-seeing  with  his  womenfolk. 
Gladly  abandoning  them  to  the  two  Brazilians 
and  Ware,  he  mapped  out  a  strenuous  morning  in 
the  theatre  and  the  inner  offices  of  the  wealthy. 
The  rest  of  his  party  presently  drove  off,  heading 
first  for  the  older  part  of  the  water  front.  The  sun 
appeared  to  be  mounting  with  extraordinary 
rapidity,  sending  violent  showers  of  light  into  the 
pale  streets. 

*  ^I  want  you  to  see  our  market  on  the  Ver-o-peso 
before  the  other  sights,"  Custodio  said.  ''The 
botanical  gardens  and  the  pottery  in  the  museum 
can  wait.  You  can  see  labelled  pots  and  arranged 
plants  in  any  part  of  the  world.  But  here  is  some- 
thing vital — something  of  the  genuine,  everyday 
life  of  our  people." 


80  BLACK  GOLD 

They  drove  down  again  to  the  waterside,  this 
time  to  the  cut  made  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  small  craft,  the  emhar cacaoes,  that  not  only 
performed  the  continuous  traffic  of  the  riverine 
network,  but  were  the  habitations  of  a  thousand 
families.  Against  the  edge  of  the  canal  were 
moored  scores  of  jostling  boats,  with  others  ply- 
ing up  and  down  with  busy  paddles  or  skimming 
along  with  bright-colored  sails  hoisted.  They  had 
this  in  common:  all  were  home-made,  whether 
narrow  dugouts  and  canoes  of  the  up-river  people 
with  Indian  blood  in  their  veins,  or  the  more  am- 
bitiously contrived  boats  with  a  cover,  the  toldo, 
for  shelter  against  sun  and  rain,  or  stout  craft 
constructed  for  traversing  the  rapids  of  the  in- 
terior waterways,  covered  at  either  end,  as  solid 
as  Noah's  ark.  The  crowd  of  sails,  rust-red  and 
verdigris-blue,  made  the  river  as  lively  as  the 
Gulf  of  Venice. 

On  the  edge  of  the  cut  the  market  folk  were  buy- 
ing from  the  river  traders — bananas,  bundles  of 
herbs  and  medicinal  roots,  turtle  oil,  small  quan- 
tities of  rubber,  dried  fish  and  cacao  beans.  Fac- 
ing the  water  front,  across  the  street,  were  scores 
of  one-storied  shops  that  in  turn  stocked  the  river 
traders.  Inside,  the  shelves  were  stuffed  with 
canned  fruits  and  meats,  flour  and  tobacco;  out- 
side were  piles  of  cotton  hammocks,  coverlets, 
coarse  straw  native  hats,  rope  sandals,  and  ready- 
made  shirts.  A  continuous  noise  of  good-humored 
chaffering  rose  into  the  sunny  air,  men  and  women 
exchanging  news  and  comradely  pleasantries. 

This  region,  set  aside  for  petty  commerce,  with 
its  public  scales  so  that  people  can  *^see-the- 
weight, ' '  probably  did  not  in  a  whole  week  involve 
the  turnover  of  as  much  money  as  was  made  by 


BLACK  GOLD  81 

any  of  the  big  rubber  merchants  in  the  business 
section  of  Para  in  a  day,  but  here  was  the  genuine 
life,  the  real  industry,  of  the  Amazonian  dwellers. 
Simply  philosophic,  devoted  to  the  lives  that  they 
live  in  eternal  contact  with  the  river  and  the 
forest,  a  free  and  masterless  folk. 

The  sun  was  high,  pouring  floods  of  heavy  heat 
into  the  stony  business  section,  as  they  went 
through  the  long  ruas  and  travessas  of  Para, 
straight  streets  laid  out  at  right  angles  to  each 
other.  The  newcomers  read  the  names  of  little 
stores — A  Paris  n 'America,  A  Africana,  and  A 
Formosa  Paraense,  and  made  obeisance  on  first 
introduction  to  the  oiiro  preto  of  the  Amazon. 

Here  it  lay,  this  famous  black  gold,  piles  of  big 
balls  on  the  pavement  and  inside  the  doors  of  long 
warehouses.  Some  of  the  balls  were  cut  in  half, 
showing  the  creamy  hearts  close-packed  with 
layers  like  great  unopened  roses. 

*'The  buyer  cuts  them  open  to  see  what  the 
quality  is,  and  how  many  bits  of  wood  and  old 
iron  the  seringueiro  has  put  in  to  make  his  pelle 
weigh  more,''  somebody  explained.  They  drove 
to  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  passing  again  the 
Theatro  da  Paz,  along  the  Avenida  de  Nazareth 
with  its  great  dark  green  spreading  mangoes 
meeting  overhead,  the  fruit  hanging  on  long 
strings  like  decorations  on  a  Christmas  tree.  Fol- 
lowing the  Souza  car  line,  they  ran  out  along  a 
green  wide  road,  with  heavy  grass  and  tropic 
weeds  springing  between  the  rails.  Rose-colored 
mimosas  ran  over  the  paths,  and  thick-leaved  lilies 
sprang  at  the  borders  of  the  ditches  where  bright, 
light-green  woods  stood.  The  elaborate  houses  of 
rich  merchants  rose  here  and  there,  but  between 
and  behind  them  the  dripping  green  forest  crept 


82  BLACK  GOLD 

Tip  and  crowded.  The  whole  region  was  heavy 
with  the  breath  of  the  forest.  Green  vistas  over- 
whelmed the  lane  openings,  a  faint  blue  mist  hang- 
ing over  everything. 

Far  out  lay  the  big  new  market  where  sacks  of 
tapioca  and  piles  of  palm  cabbages  stood  side  by 
side  with  mounds  of  dried  shrimps;  they  stopped 
at  the  Bosque  and  saw  the  blue-black  back  of  the 
melancholy  cowfish  in  the  pool,  went  on  to  the 
museum,  standing  in  its  lush,  thick  green  gardens 
full  of  tremendous  struggling  tropic  trees  and 
plants,  stared  at  the  strange  beasts  and  the  bril- 
liant birds  of  the  Amazon,  and  glanced  at  the 
rooms  where  funeral  urns  and  poor  little  house- 
hold pots  of  dead  and  forgotten  tribes  sat  for- 
lornly on  shelves,  docketed  and  registered. 

Margarita  was  fairly  willing  to  be  instructed, 
or  at  least  was  not  openly  restive,  but  Francina 
and  Beatriz,  frankly  bored  by  museums,  ended  by 
refusing  to  look  at  the  Indian  pottery.  ^^They 
have  been  dead  such  a  long  time,  and  I  am  alive, 
and  I  hate  to  think  of  dying  and  being  put  in  a 
clay  jar,''  Francina  said.  She  bought  bundles 
of  the  labyrintho  lace  from  the  tiny  shops  in  nar- 
row, crowded  streets  of  the  older  quarter,  and  here 
her  interest  in  Para  ended.  Returning  to  the 
Grande  Hotel  for  lunch,  they  found  Salvatore 
waiting.   He  had  spent  a  happy  morning. 

''I  could  make  a  heap  of  money  here  if  I  can 
only  get  the  girls  safely  away  from  Manaos,"  he 
declared.  **I  shall  lock  them  up  and  chain  them 
down.'' 

John  "Ware  joined  their  table,  immaculate  in 
his  white  clothes,  his  fair  coolness  accentuated  by 
the  dazzling  heat.  It  seemed  to  Margarita  that  he 
was  a  little  absent-minded,  and  she  reproached 


BLACK  GOLD  83 

him  for  this  without  getting  more  than  a  long, 
keen  look  from  him  in  reply.  As  the  shores  of 
Brazil  were  approached  he  had  almost  ostentati- 
ously left  her  to  the  new  environment,  and  now 
she  could  not  resist  the  idea  that  he  was  expecting 
a  sea  change  to  take  place  in  her,  and  was  looking 
on  at  the  process  with  detached  amusement. 

In  the  middle  of  almogo,  three  people  entered 
the  room  amid  quite  a  flutter  of  excitement  among 
the  waiters;  many  heads  were  turned  to  look  at 
the  party.  An  old  lady,  upright,  dignified,  dressed 
in  black,  was  followed  by  a  beautiful  young  girl 
in  white.  She  appeared  to  be  about  eighteen,  and 
looked  like  a  bisque  china  doll,  with  enormous 
dark  eyes  fringed  with  long  lashes;  her  oval  face 
was  covered  in  powder.  Behind  them  came  a  tall 
man  with  a  slight  stoop,  acknowledging  salutes 
as  men  rose  and  bowed  here  and  there  from  the 
tables. 

*^Evaristo  da  Cunha,  the  deputy  governor  of 
Amazonas,''  Ware  said  to  Margarita,  and  Custodio 
and  Aifonso,  excusing  themselves  quickly,  went 
to  exchange  a  word  with  their  cousin.  *'The  girl? 
I  don't  know.  One  of  the  family,  of  course.  I 
don't  know  the  old  lady,  either — one  almost  never 
sees  the  women,  you  know,  except  now  and  again 
at  functions,  and  then  they  are  all  made  up  to  look 
just  alike.'' 

Max  Denis,  sitting  beyond  Affonso's  chair,  fol- 
lowed the  young  girl  with  bright  eyes,  his  bleached 
face  alight.  *^Just  out  of  a  convent,  or  she 
wouldn't  look  so  assured  and  sophisticated,"  he 
said.  ^*  Oh,  how  I  love  these  veiled  girls  I  Flowers 
grown  under  a  glass  shade,  innocent  as  a  snow- 
drop, and  not  a  thing  in  the  whole  world  that  they 
don't  know.  Adorable  I"  j 


84  BLACK  GOLD 

Custodio  and  Affonso  returned.  *'Our  consins 
hope  to  make  your  acquaintance  after  lunch,  with 
your  permission,"  the  older  man  said  formally 
to  Francina.  **Evaristo  came  here  to  escort  our 
aunt,  Madame  de  Freitas,  back  to  Manaos.  She 
is  just  returning  from  Rio  with  her  grand- 
daughter, who  has  spent  the  last  two  years  in  a 
French  convent  there. ' ' 

Max  glanced  at  Ware  with  a  **What  did  I  tell 
you?''  expression,  and  Francina  permitted  her- 
self a  discreet  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  dep- 
uty governor  and  his  party.  She  met  a  look  that 
sent  a  thrill  of  excitement  through  her,  a  look 
from  sombre  eyes  that  were  sleepy  and  yet  bril- 
liant, instantly  withdrawn  after  the  first  second  of 
encounter.  It  was  as  if  two  expert  swordsmen  had 
momentarily  crossed  weapons. 

Evaristo  da  Cunha  was  at  that  time  a  man  of 
forty-six.  He  had  a  shock  of  thick  gray  hair, 
plumed  above  an  oval  face;  his  skin  was  very 
white,  and  there  was  no  color  on  his  still  face  but 
the  black  of  his  eyebrows,  the  long  line  of  his 
dark  eyes,  and  the  curves  of  his  beautifully  shaped 
lips.  He  was  always  fastidiously  dressed,  and, 
rather  an  exception  in  that  land  of  jewels,  wore  no 
pin  in  his  tie  and  no  ring  upon  his  long  ivory 
hands.  He  cultivated  an  atmosphere  of  mysterious 
elegance,  and  was  rather  a  silent  man,  affecting  a 
constant,  very  slight,  smile  upon  his  closed  lips 
in  lieu  of  conversation. 

Custodio  bent  towards  her.  ^^What  do  you 
think  of  our  politician?" 

Francina  laughed.  **A  fascinating  creature! 
How  I  should  enjoy  a  flirtation  with  him — in 
public." 

^^Cuidado,  madamel  Take  care  I" 


BLACK  GOLD  85 

''I  said  in  pnblic.  It's  delicious  dancing  on 
volcanoes/' 

*^I  warn  you!  Our  Evaristo  isn't  a  volcano.  He 
is  a  born  gamester  whose  one  instinct  is  to  win. 
That's  why  he  is  such  a  good  politician  to  fol- 
low . . .  but  with  him  it's  a  game  because  he  craves 
power,  acquisition,  money — all  that  the  game  will 
give  him.  He  lives  often  for  long  periods,  but  only 
temporarily,  the  life  of  an  ascetic,  and  yet  he  loves 
money,  will  do  anything  for  money  because  it's  a 
tool.  He  makes  his  plans  for  money  as  if  he  were 
hungry  for  it,  and  yet  he  really  only  uses  it  for 
one  thing." 

She  laughed.  '^Yes?  What?" 

**The  man  who  is  avid  for  money  is  nearly 
always  avid  for  flesh. ' ' 

**You  are  very  frank." 

''Are  you  angry?  I  am  very  sorry.  ...  It  is 
because  you  are  so  clever,  madame.  Please  let 
me  say!  I  admire  you  and  your  sister  so  much,  I 
take  it  as  a  personal  compliment  that  two  such 
distinguished  young  women  should  come  to  visit 
us  .  .  . "  he  said  as  she  rose,  and  went  on,  accom- 
panying her  to  the  door:  ''If  your  party  from 
Italy  is  not  delayed,  we  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  ascending  the  river  with  you." 

'^'That  will  be  delightful."  She  smiled  upon 
him  as  they  stood  in  the  lobby. 

He  continued :  "  I  am  very  much  attached  to  our 
friend  Mr.  Ware.  I  suppose  you  know  that  he  is 
associated  with  my  family  estates  up  above 
Manaos — he  is  very  serious  and  hard-working, 
and  is  helping  to  reform  a  very  poor  seringal—- 
piece  of  rubber  forest,  you  know.  He  has  an  inter- 
est in  it;  he  is  an  admirable  fellow.  Patient,  accur- 
ate, very  sincere." 


86  BLACK  GOLD 

She  yawned  very  slightly.  **Yes,  he  has  all  the 
virtues  of  the  Englishman.'' 

** Women — appreciate — those  virtues,  nao  eT' 

**Some  women,  no  doubt.  I  don't  know  if  I  do. 
You  see,  all  that  such  a  man  wants  is  a  peg  to 
hang  his  niceness  on.  Perhaps  it's  what  most  men 

want.    But  to  be  the  peg "    She  stopped  as 

Evaristo,  his  aunt  upon  his  arm,  approached  them. 
Margarita,  talking  to  the  girl,  the  serene  Leona, 
followed,  Affonso  in  attendance.  A  few  minutes 
of  courtesies  supervened,  and  then  Francina  went 
upstairs  to  sleep,  while  Margarita  capitulated  to 
Custodio's  offer  of  **The  last  sight  I  shall  trouble 
your  eyes  with  in  Para,  mademoiselle.  But  this  I 
wish  you  to  see.  I  will  come  for  you  at  five  o'clock, 
when  it  is  not  so  hot  and  there  is  still  an  hour's 
light."  ^ 

Late  in  the  afternoon  therefore  Margarita  went 
with  him  to  a  quiet  square  down  in  the  older  part 
of  the  city,  where  deep,  cool  blue  shadows  lay  on 
one  entire  side,  and  feathery  trees  grew  in  a  sleep- 
ing garden.  At  one  side  stood  a  worn  old  building, 
inscribed:  *^ Hospital  do  Senhor  Bom  Jesus/'  Tat- 
tered cotton  clothes  hung  on  the  bars  of  its  win- 
dow spaces.  Outside  was  an  overflow  of  people 
for  whom  there  was  no  room.  A  cart,  full  of  tragic 
bundles  and  remnants  of  house  furniture,  con- 
tained all  their  possessions ;  a  couple  of  dogs  slept 
in  the  sun.  Sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  pavement, 
some  half  asleep,  others  staring  into  vacancy, 
were  a  score  or  more  of  men,  women  and  children, 
the  retirantes,  the  flagellados,  withdrawn  and 
scourged  folk  from  the  drought  regions  of  Ceara. 

^*0n  this  misery  has  been  built  the  rubber 
industry  of  the  Amazon,"  said  Custodio. 

They  had  the  appearance  of  people  from  whom 


BLACK  GOLD  87 

almost  the  last  drop  of  blood  had  been  sncked.  The 
hollow-eyed  and  listless  women;  gaunt  men,  with 
fevered  lips  and  all  the  bones  of  their  cheeks  show- 
ing through  the  stretched  skin;  little  limp  chil- 
dren with  arms  and  legs  like  pale  sticks.  They  did 
not  speak,  but  sat  uncomplaining,  their  heads 
bowed.  Several  of  the  children  were  very  fair, 
inheritors  of  the  Dutch  strain  that  has  run  through 
North  Brazil  since  the  day  of  Maurice  of  Nassau. 

Margarita,  distressed,  could  scarcely  bear  to 
leave  them.  Couldn't  something  be  done?  Food 
or  money  .  .  .  ? 

''Not  from  you  or  me,"  said  Custodio.  ''They 
would  resent  it.  They  are  very  proud  and  inde- 
pendent. All  these  people  were  small  landowners, 
and  will  be  again,  probably,  if  they  can  tide  the 
bad  times  over.  The  State  governments  are  doing 
all  that  can  be  done  for  them,  transporting  them 
from  the  burnt  lands  to  some  place  where  they 
can  work.  Ah,  that  drought  country!'' 

They  walked  slowly  from  the  square.  "When 
no  rain  falls  in  Ceara,  then  all  the  ground  opens 
in  cracks,  the  beds  of  the  rivers  dry  up  and  the 
crops  are  scorched  in  the  iron  ground  and  the 
cattle  die  and  the  people  become  living  skeletons 
like  these,  then  they  come  to  the  Amazon.  Here 
at  least  is  plenty  of  water — too  much !  They  go  to 
work  in  the  deep  rubber  forests.  All  the  men,  and 
sometimes  all  the  family,  go  into  the  forest  and 
start  tapping  in  some  great  seringal.  Without 
them,  without  the  spur  of  the  droughts,  we  should 
never  have  enough  labor  on  the  Amazon.'' 

"They  look  very  sad  and  ill,"  she  murmured, 
much  troubled. 

"Often,  they  die.  Others  rouse  up  and  live. 
Then  when  the  rains   come  in   Ceara  and   the 


88  BLACK  GOLD 

scourged  conntry  blossoms  like  a  magic  garden, 
and  such  crops  spring  up  that  anyone  can  get  rich 
in  a  year,  then  back  they  go.  Ah,  senhora,  Brazil 
wears  many  masks  ..." 

Late  that  afternoon  Salvatore,  spending  much 
time  anxiously  at  the  wharf,  heard  that  the  Italia 
had  been  sighted.  She  docked  before  midnight, 
and  he  went  on  board  at  once,  returning  an  hour 
later  to  waken  Francina  with  lamentations 
mingled  with  satisfaction.  Only  four  girls  had 
come,  with  Beatriz  Sf  orzi,  five  musicians,  and  Lar- 
oche,  but  these  four  were  very  pretty  indeed,  and 
six  more  were  to  follow  on  the  next  boat.  **He 
ought  to  have  waited  for  them,"  he  declared,  but 
tried  to  console  himself  with  assurances  that  an 
agent  in  Italy  had  solemnly  sworn  to  put  the 
selected  beauties  on  board. 

Next  morning  he  was  down  at  the  dock  before 
the  sun  was  up  and  overrode  all  grumblings  of 
the  girls  and  the  waspish  Sforzi,  insisting  upon 
transferring  them  at  once  to  the  Pomba,  due  to 
proceed  up  the  river  that  day. 

**I  dare  not  let  those  girls  loose  in  Para,"  he  de- 
clared to  Laroche.  **I  know  more  now  than  I  did. 
They  would  be  simply  burgled,  stolen,  torn  from 
me.  I  could  never  face  Manaos !  Aren  't  they  pay- 
ing for  them?  .  .  .  Don't  tell  me;  I  don't  care  what 
they  say.  I  shall  tell  them  the  plague's  raging,  or 
there 's  a  revolution  or  something.  But  not  one  of 
them  shall  set  foot  ashore." 

In  a  couple  of  hours  he  had  them  transferred, 
but  presently  Francina  intervened.  It  was  bad 
business  to  make  them  sulky  at  the  outset,  she  was 
sure.  At  least  let  her  take  them  for  an  automobile 
drive.  She  had  her  way,  and  packed  the  whole  of 


BLACK  GOLD  89 

the  company  into  three  cars.  Making  concessions 
to  the  fears  of  Salvatore,  they  went  through  the 
city  streets  at  top  speed,  and  as  soon  as  this 
parade  had  been  made  for  formes  sake  they  turned 
away  for  the  long  spin  to  Chapeo  Verado.  That 
was  pretty  safe!  But  Salvatore  knew  no  peace 
until  he  saw  the  whole  of  his  party  back  upon  the 
decks  of  the  Pomba,  retaining  his  anxious  expres- 
sion until  that  gallant  ship  weighed  anchor,  edged 
herself  from  the  crowd  of  shipping  at  the  water's 
edge,  and  began  to  skirt  the  southern  edge  of 
Marajo  Island  on  her  way  to  the  Amazon's  great 
channel. 

At  this  time  of  the  year  there  should  have  been 
daily  rains,  but  there  had  been  an  extraordinarily 
long  dry  season  that  still  did  not  break  except  in 
fitful  showers.  The  waters  had  only  risen  a  few 
feet,  and  sandbanks  still  showed  in  long  lines  of 
pale  gold  at  the  edge  of  the  green  islands.  All  the 
water  paths  were  lively  with  little  steamers  and 
riverine  craft. 

Francina,  leaning  over  the  rail  of  the  captain's 
little  deck  in  the  shadow  of  an  awning,  just  before 
dinner,  perceived  the  approach  of  a  white-clad 
man.  Evaristo,  the  perpetual  little  smile  upon  his 
lips,  came  close,  stood  very  near;  he  bowed  low, 
asked  her  consent  to  his  remaining  at  her  side, 
and  then  leaned  beside  her  without  speaking  for  a 
moment.  There  was  no  one  in  sight.  She  remained 
with  her  elbows  supporting  her  little  chin,  glanc- 
ing indifferently  at  the  water  and  the  thick  trees 
by  which  the  boat  pressed.  The  deputy  governor 
spoke  in  a  low  and  measured  voice. 

**When  I  saw  you  first,  something — some  spark 
— passed  between  us.   I  felt  it." 

<<You  must  not  say  that  to  me,"  she  said  in  a 


90  BLACK  GOLD 

surprised  and  distant  manner.  He  took  no  notice. 

*'I  have  been  thinking  of  you  all  night,''  he 
said,  still  in  his  low,  intent  voice.  *^Look  at  me! 
I  implore  you,  look  at  me!'' 

She  raised  eyes  of  incredible  innocence  to  him, 
and  he  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  She  looked 
away  again  as  his  eyes  sank  into  hers,  turning 
her  face  so  that  he  could  see  only  the  outline  of 
her  round  cheek  and  the  burnished  curves  of  her 
fair  hair.  To  that  averted  cheek  she  raised  one 
slim  forefinger,  and  remained  motionless,  her 
loose  sleeve  slipping  from  her  arm,  pearly  in  the 
half  light.  Evaristo  glanced  quickly  about,  saw 
no  other  person,  and  bent  his  head  until  his  lips 
touched  that  tempting  arm. 

As  he  kissed,  with  gentle  and  silent  kisses,  he 
kept  his  eyes  steadily  upon  her  averted  face.  She 
made  no  sign,  apparently  unheeding,  until  he, 
perhaps  a  shade  disconcerted  by  what  he  felt  to 
be  her  elaborated  unconcern,  forced  the  pace  with 
a  whispered  ^*I  adore  you!  You  are  the  most  ex- 
quisite woman  I  have  ever  seen!  I  adore  you!" 

At  this  she  withdrew  her  arm,  starting,  and 
cast  a  wondering  look  upon  him.  In  the  same 
moment  Margarita's  big  white  hat  appeared  as 
she  ascended  the  stairway.  Evaristo  immediately 
bowed  very  low  and  went  away  without  uttering 
another  sound. 

**The  great  man  is  extremely  romantic  look- 
ing," Margarita  thought,  staring  after  him 
frankly.  **He  rather  looked  as  if  he  was  being 
sentimental. ' ' 

*^He  was."  Francina  was  quite  calm.  '*What 
else  should  he  be  doing,  if  he  couldn't  talk  poli- 
tics? .  .  .  Since  he's  in  good  health.  ..."  She 
laughed    and    resumed    thoughtfully:     ^* Latins, 


BLACK  GOLD  91 

Margie,  are  the  only  sort  of  men  on  earth  who 
should  be  allowed  by  law  to  make  love.  They  are 
so  adept  and  so  practical  at  the  same  time.  They 
are  not  really  sentimental  at  heart  about  women, 
and  they  don't  invent  qualities  for  us.  .  .  .  Thank 
Heaven,  too,  they  don't  want  us  for  intellectual 
companions,  nor  as  pegs  to  hang  their  own  virtues 
on.  Do  you  want  to  be  a  peg,  Margie  ? ' ' 

*'I  seem  to  be  hearing  a  lot  about  them,"  the 
girl  remarked.  *' Property's  a  peg  in  your  foot — 
and  women  are  pegs  for  sentimentalities?" 

**Y-yes.  Perhaps  because  they're  property  too. 
.  .  ."  Francina's  brow  was  knitted.  **A  vexed 
question,  my  darling,  the  true  sphere  of  woman. 
I  like  planes  better  than  spheres.  .  .  .  They  could 
go  to  the  moon.  Oh,  let's  hurry  1  There's  the 
dinner  bell." 


vin 

WITH  the  Narrows  threaded,  they  looked  out 
next  morning  upon  an  immense  waste  of 
waters,  golden  in  the  sunlight,  flecked  with  blue 
shadows;  they  were  upon  the  breast  of  the  Amazon 
itself,  their  faces  turned  westwards.  Along  the 
northern  shore,  above  and  far  behind  the  dead 
level  line  of  dark  forest,  rose  a  series  of  flat-topped 
ridges,  cut  out  in  flat  blue  against  the  lighter  sky. 
Near  at  hand,  on  the  southern  shore  where  the 
Pomha  made  her  way  to  avoid  the  racing  current 
of  mid-river,  the  forest  was  close  enough  now  and 
again  to  permit  a  sight  of  little  fairy  palms,  their 
feet  in  the  yellow  flood,  or  the  long  strings  of 
flowering  vines  that  hung,  looping  from  branch  to 
branch  of  the  tall,  naked-stemmed  trees  and  tan- 
gling the  thick  shrubs  that  grew  on  the  margin. 

The  steamer  often  passed  close  to  a  dwelling  of 
the  river  folk,  setting  the  slim  canoe,  the  family's 
sole  means  of  communication  with  the  outer 
world,  dancing  against  the  mooring  post.  The 
river  huts,  confiding  themselves  to  the  water 
rather  than  to  the  forest,  rose  out  of  the  Amazon 
on  six  stout  wooden  legs,  high  enough  to  keep  the 
floor  out  of  reach  of  the  river's  rises.  Built  of 
wood  and  palm  thatch,  the  house  was  waterproof, 
airy  and  cool. 

Its  mistress,  seen  leaning  from  the  window 
space,  dressed  in  a  bright  cotton  garment,  must 
have  little  enough  to  do,  you  might  think.  She 
had  but  one  floor  to  sweep  and  no  beds  to  make, 


BLACK  GOLD  93 

since  the  family  slept  in  the  hammocks  suspended 
from  corner  to  corner.  Food  came  chiefly  from  the 
river  itself,  and  into  the  river  went  anything  that 
she  wanted  to  throw  away.  Cooking  could  not  be 
complicated,  since  the  fire  was  but  a  pan  of  char- 
coal, and  the  meals  had  little  more  variety  than 
that  offered  by  different  sorts  of  fish,  accompanied 
by  the  eternal  farinha  de  mandioca.  A  bit  of  dried 
beef,  the  beloved  came  secca,  on  rare  occasions,  a 
handful  of  peppers,  black  beans,  a  few  bananas, 
a  little  coffee  or  cacao,  made  up  almost  the  only 
changes  of  menu. 

The  forest  that  walled  in  these  river  dwellers 
at  the  back,  that  reared  itself  overhead  and  wove 
tangles  of  thorny  creepers  against  their  entry,  was 
less  friendly,  less  productive,  than  the  river  at 
their  feet.  There  was  the  main  harvest,  the  high- 
way linking  them  to  the  world.  Looking  out  from 
the  little  frail  hut,  they  saw  their  only  known  uni- 
verse go  by;  secure  because  no  one  would  dispute 
this  desolation  with  them,  they  were  consciously 
proud  of  their  independence,  as  proud  as  Arabs, 
with  the  yellow  river  sea  as  their  desert. 

Margarita  looked  down  at  the  scene  upon  the 
lower  deck,  crowded  with  hundreds  of  flagellados. 
She  regarded  them  with  a  feeling  that  she  was 
committing  an  impertinence,  but  was  reassured 
at  sight  of  their  calm  and  dignified  candor.  The 
hammocks,  swung  in  tiers  one  above  the  other, 
were  for  the  most  part  left  in  place  day  and  night, 
since  they  were  the  only  retreats  where  the 
greater  number  of  the  Cearenses  could  sit  and 
rest.  The  women  spent  most  of  their  time  in  pre- 
paring meals,  washing  or  dressing  themselves  or 
their  children,  eating,  and  combing  their  hair. 
The  men  talked,  smoked,  played  their  violas  and 


94  BLACK  GOLD 

sang  little  gay  songs.  There  was  a  continual  sound 
of  laughter  and  lively  talk,  a  pervading  comrade- 
ship and  good  humor. 

The  scent  of  strong  black  coffee  rose  into  the 
air,  and,  as  she  looked  doAvn,  Margarita  saw  a 
thickset  young  man  carrying  a  cup  of  coffee  to 
a  hammock  just  beneath  the  spot  where  she  stood. 
The  hammock  was  a  beautiful  white  Ceara  speci- 
men, the  sides  edged  with  heavy  lace,  adorned 
with  huge  tassels;  from  its  deep  folds  a  slender 
arm,  the  color  of  old  ivory,  was  extended,  and  a 
young  woman,  her  head  bound  with  a  white  hand- 
kerchief, raised  herself. 

Her  face  was  pale;  long  eyelashes  shaded  her 
eyes  as  if  she  was  too  tired  or  indifferent  to  keep 
them  open;  thick  dusky  hair  was  parted  over  her 
low  forehead.  She  was  very  pretty.  As  she  stirred, 
a  cry  came  from  the  folds  of  the  hammock  and 
Margarita  saw  that  she  held  a  baby  to  her  breast. 

The  young  man,  murmuring  gentle  words,  bent 
over  her,  took  the  child  and  held  it  to  his  broad 
face  with  an  air  of  rapture.  He  lifted  its  tiny 
hands  and  kissed  each  feeble  finger  deliberately, 
with  an  emphasis  of  love  so  passionate,  so  nearly 
ecstatic,  that  Margarita  turned  away  her  eyes, 
feeling  shame  in  looking.  She  was  about  to  leave 
the  rail  when  she  caught  sight  of  a  little  child, 
perhaps  two  or  three  years  old,  a  very  fair  little 
child,  who  ran  to  the  hammock  and  cried  out  in  a 
shrill,  imperious  treble.  At  once  the  face  of  the 
man  underwent  a  peculiar  change;  the  radiance 
died  as  if  a  candle  had  been  snuffed  out  suddenly, 
leaving  it  like  wood.  He  was  nothing  now  but  a 
stolid  Indian  with  a  yellow  skin  and  small  flat 
black  eyes. 

The  girl  in  the  hammock  spoke,  stretching  out 


BLACK  GOLD  95 

her  delicate  hand,  and  he,  apparently  obeying,  set 
the  baby  down  on  the  deck,  took  away  the  cnp, 
and  then  lifted  into  the  hammock  the  tiny  girl 
who  still  stood  calling  out,  as  she  braced  herself 
by  the  heavy  fringe. 

Ware  came  up  behind  Margarita.  **What  do 
you  think  of  our  labor  recruits?'^ 

She  retorted:  '*I  don't  see  them  as  labor  re- 
cruits. I  see  crowds  of  people  all  living  together, 
packed  like  sardines,  and  being  polite  and  good- 
tempered  about  it." 

He,  too,  looked  down,  and  immediately  ex- 
claimed: ^'Good  heavens,  there's  Vicente!  What 
an  extraordinary  thing!  That  caboclo,  that  half- 
Indian  chap — the  very  best  man  I  ever  had  work- 
ing for  me  on  the  river ''   Leaning  over  the 

rail,  his  voice  or  gesture  caught  the  eye  of  the 
young  man  below.  He  looked  up  and  his  face 
broke  into  a  broad,  beaming  smile.  He  took  off 
his  straw  hat  and  held  it  against  his  breast  as  he 
bowed:  ^^Patrao!" 

*^If  you'll  pardon  me,  I  must  go  down  and 
speak  to  him, ' '  said  Ware,  and  ran  down  the  lad- 
der to  the  lower  deck.  Margarita  saw  him  take 
Vicente  aside,  shake  his  hand;  the  two  remained 
talking  quickly  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  they 
came  forward  to  the  hammock  and  Ware  saluted 
the  girl  with  courteous  kindness,  patting  the 
heads  of  the  children.  Margarita,  returning  to 
her  deck  chair,  encountered  Madame  de  Freitas. 

^^What  have  you  seen?"  inquired  that  lady, 
shrewd  eyes  looking  out  from  a  hundred  wrinkles. 

'^I  think,  a  man  who  loves — if  that  is  not  too 
absurd.   Dc  Brazilians  love  very  much?" 

The  old  lady  laughed.  *^  Yes,  it  is  quite  common. 
This  is  still  a  land  where  there  are  more  men  than 


96  BLACK  GOLD 

women,  and  the  rare  is  always  prized.  What  do 
you  say,  Custodio?  Do  you  spoil  our  Brazilian 
women  f  He  drew  his  chair  towards  them  and 
answered  slowly: 

** Spoil?  No.  We  give  them  everything,  steal 
and  kill  for  them,  ruin  ourselves  if  they  are  exi- 
gent or  flighty.  But  they  remain  the  same. 
Spoiled,  no." 

**It  is  said  that  you  don't  trust  them  vfery 
muchr'  Margarita  suggested. 

**  Perhaps.  ...  I  think  there  is  always  a  little 
desconfianga,  A  woman  is  a  delicate  flower.  Our 
houses,  too,  are  still  our  castles,  charmed  circles, 
almost  a  walled  sanctity,  not  easily  penetrated.'' 

**Alas!  in  the  southern  cities,  Rio  and  Sao 
Paulo,  it  is  not  quite  the  same  now  .  .  .  too  much 
wealth.  And  then,  perhaps,  the  example  of  for- 
eigners," the  old  lady  regretted. 

**I  think  it's  the  result  of  having  good  paving 
and  trains  and  telephones,"  Custodio  argued. 
''When  women  only  went  out  in  carriages  over 
streets  impassable  with  mud  things  were  differ- 
ent; but  now  they  are  beginning  to  jump  into 
street  cars  and  run  all  about  the  town  every  day." 

'^I  do  not  like  it,"  Madame  de  Freitas  said.  ''I 
prefer  the  position  of  our  women  as  it  is." 

Denis,  approaching,  had  something  to  say.  *'At 
least  it's  very  convenient  for  the  men.  It  leaves 
them  free  to  spend  all  their  nights  at  the  clubs 
and  their  days  in  the  cafes." 

''Does  my  wife  object  to  that  if  I  do?"  de- 
manded Custodio.  "She  would  not  care  to  accom- 
pany me.  She  has  her  occupations,  and  emphatic- 
ally they  are  not  mine — care  of  her  children, 
her  house,  her  clothes.  She  spends  hours  every 
day  over  her  dressmaker  and  making  her  sweets. 


BLACK  GOLD  97 

Does  she  wish  me  to  help  her?   She  prefers  the 
society  of  her  cousins  and  aunts  and  children." 

'*An  excellent  theory  for  men:  I  support  it 
heartily!''  Denis  said,  and  Madame  de  Freitas, 
experienced,  shrewdly  frank,  agreed.  ^^As  a 
woman,  my  opinion  is  the  same.  It  is  much  better 
for  a  casalf  a  married  couple,  not  to  see  too  much 
of  each  other,  not  to  invade  each  other's  spheres. 
What  happens  in  countries  where  men  and  women 
are  constantly  together,  in  business  and  amuse- 
ment? They  have  no  children,  and  then  they  are 
always  divorcing  each  other.  No  wonder!  There 
is  no  charm  left,  they  have  no  ties,  and  no  home — 
nothing  that  can  be  regarded  as  sacred  even  if 
couples  are  no  longer  madly  in  love."  She  sat  up 
and  emphasized  her  point  with  her  tiny  hands. 

^'This  companionship  before  marriage,  too, 
what  a  frightful  mistake!  How  can  a  man  think 
of  a  woman  as  a  closed  garden  of  mysteries  if  he 
has  run  about  with  her  for  months  and  years,  and 
seen  her  running  about  with  a  dozen  other  young 
men!  Horrible!  All  my  granddaughters  are  be- 
ing brought  up  in  convents,  and  when  they  are  old 
enough  and  pretty  enough  to  marry,  I  take  them 
out  one  by  one,  exhibit  just  the  tips  of  their  noses 
to  an  eligible  young  man,  and  marry  them  off 
without  the  delay  of  a  week." 

''You  are   a  believer  in  harems,  madame?" 

Denis  said  deferentially. 

*'But  certainly!  Where  else  do  women  rule?" 

''They  have  insisted  on  getting  outside  them?" 

Custodio  intervened:    "Not  voluntarily.    They 

may  not  know  it,  but  be  sure  that  they  have  been 

driven  out  by  economic  necessity — or  curiosity." 

He  looked  with  a  smile  at  Margarita.  She  retorted 

impudently: 


98  BLACK  GOLD 

*' Curiosity  about — you?" 

*' Would  that  it  were,  mademoiselle!"  He  bowed 
low. 

'^Oh,  but  I  am  curious!  I  think  I  should  like  a 
Brazilian  husband  myself,  Madame  de  Freitas 
recommends  them  so  highly." 

The  old  lady's  wrinkles  creased  deeply  as  she 
laughed.  ^*That  is  delightful!  I  hope  you  will  let 
us  all  remember  that.  .  .  .  My  dear,  the  Brazilian 
is  very  easy  to  understand.  I  shall  explain  him  to 
you,  and  Custodio,  do  not  dare  to  contradict  me! 
Before  marriage,  he  is  a  suppliant,  an  adorer  of 
the  remote  and  beautiful.  Afterwards,  of  course, 
his  feelings  change  a  little.  Any  woman  of  intel- 
ligence adapts  herself  to  that — it  is  a  logical 
alteration.  .  .  .  Then,  if  she  bears  children,  his 
attitude  becomes  tender,  there  is  no  foolishness  he 
will  not  forgive  her " 

''That  is  because  Brazilians  carry  child  wor- 
ship to  extremes,"  Custodio  declared.  But  she 
would  not  have  this. 

*'No,  no!  Our  Brazilians  adore  their  children, 
but  the  feeling  of  the  husband  is  not  gratitude  to 
the  mother  of  his  babies.  It  is  something  other 
than  that.  I  have  often  thought  about  this  since 
I  became  an  old  woman  and  able  to  regard  my 
family  and  friends  with  detachment." 

She  looked  keenly  at  the  group  before  her  and 
challenged  Denis  with  old,  bright  eyes.  '*I  think 
that  our  men,  like  the  French,  become  maternal  to 
their  women  when  there  are  children.  Not  hus- 
bandly or  even  paternal,  but  motherly.  In  a  man- 
ner, they  seem  to  identify  themselves  with  nature: 
they  have  helped  to  create  a  real  woman,  brought 
her  to  fulfillment." 


BLACK  GOLD  99 

Francina,  coming  quietly  to  them,  leaning  npon 
her  sister  ^s  chair,  uttered  a  little  sound  under 
cover  of  the  laughter  and  protests.  '*Dios  men!'' 
she  murmured,  **The  True  Sphere  of  Woman 
again!   It  is  intolerable.'' 

Custodio  was  standing  up,  emphatic.  ''Oh,  be- 
loved aunt  of  mine,  you  credit  us  poor  men  with 
feelings  too  intricate,  I  fear.  I  wish  we  could  lay 
claim  to  such  rarified  emotions.  I  do  not  deny 
that  we  are  foolish  about  our  families,  but  our 
great  madness  for  children  is  due,  I  am  convinced, 
to  the  tremendous  need  we  have  of  them.  Each 
healthy  child  is  a  national  asset." 

Madame  de  Freitas  interrupted.  **Ah,  Custo- 
dio! Now  it  is  you  who  are  fantastic!  No  man  is 
so  patriotic  that  he  rejoices  in  his  sons  as  gifts 
to  the  government.'' 

''Not  consciously.  You  said  just  now,  though, 
that  the  rare  are  always  prized " 

"Rare!  My  sister  in  Santos  has  eighteen  chil- 
dren!" 

" — The  country  is  so  immense  and  we  are  so 
few,  comparatively.  We  are  not  enough  to  plant 
our  own  corn  and  beans.  We  have  to  send  out 
into  the  world  and  beg  immigrants  to  come,  pay- 
ing their  way  from  Europe  and  asking  them  to 
lend  us  their  heads  and  hands. ' ' 

"That  needn't  worry  you,"  shrugged  Denis. 
"All  of  the  Americas  are  in  the  same  boat.  Try- 
ing to  create  a  permanent  white  population  with 
imported  blood  in  a  territory  that  bred  an  ab- 
original race  with  skins  of  a  color  that  should  be 
a  standing  lesson  and  a  warning."  He  lowered 
his  voice  as  he  ended,  but  the  old  lady  was  not 
offended. 


100  BLACK  GOLD 

**You  know  very  well,  senlior,  that  our  Portu- 
guese ancestors  did  not  make  any  mistake  about 
that,''  she  reminded  him  coolly.  *'The  clever  old 
Jesuits  were  aware  that  the  only  chance  for  a  per- 
manent population  was  mixture  with  our  Indians 
...  we  are  all  proud  of  that  blood." 

Custodio  went  back  to  his  point.  **Yes,  and 
that's  why  we  absorb  the  African,  down  on  the 
Bahia  coast.  We  have  managed  to  avoid  a  color 
question  while  we  acquired  a  population  that  can 
resist  the  climate." 

**Ah,  race  questions!  What  an  infinity  of  bit- 
terness  !" 

** There  needn't  and  shouldn't  be  any  in  the 
Americas,  of  all  countries,  where  the  real  native 
is  relegated  to  extinction  and  we  are  all 
intruders " 

** Benefactors,"  interpolated  Denis  slily. 

**  Perhaps.  But  at  least  we  should  recognize  the 
fact  that  tropical  and  subtropical  lands  in  such  a 
light  zone  as  most  of  the  Americas  can't  support 
a  permanent  blonde  race.  They  die  out.  Without 
the  constant  inflow  of  invigorating  blood  you  get 
sterility  and  degeneracy  in  a  few  generations.  The 
only  alternative  is  mixture  with  a  colored  race. 
The  Asiatic  can  survive  here,  probably.  .  .  .  But 
pure  fruit  from  a  European  tree,  never!  Mentally, 
it  is  true,  we  are  heirs  of  Greece  and  Rome  and 
modem  western  Europe " 

Denis  got  up  and  bowed  to  Madame  de  Freitas 
as  he  moved  away.  '* Brazil,"  he  remarked,  **can 
at  least  make  one  remarkable  claim.  She  is  the 
one  American  country  that  doesn't  revile  her 
European  mother.  .  .  .  Look  at  the  black  water! 
We  must  be  getting  near  Santarem." 


BLACK  aOLDi  101 

That  night  a  pall  of  heat  smothered  the  boat. 
She  panted,  churning  her  way  against  the  current, 
seeming  to  fight  the  heavy  air  as  well  as  the 
water.  Stars  glimmered  feebly  through  a  mantle 
of  black  velvet.  The  line  of  forest  was  a  vaguely 
darker  blur.  As  if  stimulated  by  the  oppressive 
atmosphere  and  the  suffocating  dark,  the 
** scourged  folk''  of  the  lower  deck  cleared  a  space 
among  the  hammocks  and  sang  and  danced.  Sleep, 
perhaps,  was  an  impossible  thing. 

Margarita  stood,  young  Guimaraes  by  her  side, 
and  looked  down  upon  that  curious  scene.  Ship's 
lanterns  threw  violent  shadows,  and  dark  faces, 
glistening  with  perspiration,  smiling  with  flashes 
of  white  teeth,  came  and  went  as  groups  shuffled 
and  swayed  in  the  posturing  dances.  A  dozen  meil 
strummed  the  wailing  violas :  and  from  every  side, 
from  every  mouth,  rose  the  syncopated,  pulsating 
song,  steeped  in  African  magic. 

When  an  interval  came  and  the  dancers  sub- 
sided, breathless,  the  provocative  tune  continued. 
Suddenly  two  slim  and  tall  boys  jumped  into  the 
flickering  circle  of  light  and  began  to  dance,  their 
lithe  bodies  swaying  from  the  hips.  The  haunting, 
melancholy  beat  of  ancient  music  throbbed  into 
the  breathless  night.  The  young  men  danced  until 
they  fell  aside,  and  some  one  began  to  sing. 

'^That's  the  'Matuto  de  Ceara,'  "  Custodio  said. 
'*You  notice  that  everybody  knows  the  words — 
even  my  foreign-educated  nephew  here!"  He 
smiled  ironically  at  Affonso  Guimaraes,  bending 
over  the  rail  with  alight  face,  and  translated 
rapidly  to  the  girls.  *'Ah,  now  listen!  That's  the 
immortal,  the  eternal  song  of  the  drought  country, 
this  one!  Please  listen!" 


95  '■  •  jBLAGK  GOLD 


H 


A  dark  girl  stood  up,  full-breasted,  black 
crinkled  hair  on  either  side  of  a  vivid  face.  She 
sang  sweetly  and  clearly: 

"O  men  doi  morreii! 
Que  serd  deinim! 
— Manda  tusca  outrOf 
Ld  no  Piauhyr* 

*'You  hear  it?  *My  cow  died!  What  will  be- 
come of  me?  Go  and  seek  another,  over  there  in 
Piauhy' — ^where  the  drought  does  not  come,'' 
Margarita  heard  someone  tell  her.  As  in  a  dream 
she  watched  the  shining,  laughing,  tragic  faces. 
Somebody,  playing  a  guitar  cleverly,  stood  up 
and  sang  as  he  played,  his  challenging  voice  sent 
to  one  side  and  another  as  he  bent  from  the  hips. 

**When  a  black  man  dies,  they  say  the  drink 
killed  him.  But  when  a  white  man  dies,  it  is  be- 
cause God  has  called  him.  .  .  .  Whenever  you  see 
a  white  man  eating  with  a  Negro,  either  the  white 
man  is  in  his  debt,  or  the  food  belongs  to  the  black 
man.''  Custodio  translated  rapidly,  and  added  as 
the  song  ended  with  a  burst  of  applause  and 
laughter:  *'A11  the  people  of  the  middle  North 
have  been  makers  of  sarcastic  couplets  since  the 
days  of  Gregorio  de  Mattos  . . .  and  you  see  many 
of  us  are  frankly  pro-Negro.  We  owe  those  folk 
so  much!"  He  looked  down  at  the  crowded,  swel- 
tering deck  below  and  went  on  speaking  quietly 
to  Margarita. 

**  Laughter  has  saved  the  African  from  a  broken 
heart  and  extinction.  Laughter  and  the  gift  of 
bold  loving.  . .  .  Belief  in  a  good  God,  and  an  easy 
faculty  of  loyalty  to  the  thing  near  at  hand.  Those 
African  slaves  whom  we  dragged  away  and  out- 
raged, how  they  have  influenced  us!  They  have 
given  us  so  much  more  than  the  Indians  who  with- 


BLACK  GOLD  103 

drew  themselves  from  the  Portuguese  conqueror. ' ' 
The  beat  of  the  music  ascended,  provocative,  cry- 
ing to  all  the  senses  like  a  live  thing. 

The  Brazilian  looked  down,  his  keen,  withered 
face  alert.  **You  see  what  a  social  instinct  those 
people  have — they  did  not  learn  that  from  the 
Indian.  Our  natives  won't  leave  the  forest,  won't 
work  for  wages  under  a  roof,  won't  accept  any 
conditions.  But  the  Negro  loves  his  fellow  man, 
fears  loneliness  and  the  deep  forest,  identifies 
himself  with  us.  A  generation  ago  they  were 
slaves,  nursing  our  childern;  to-day  they  write  our 
poetry  and  sit  in  the  national  assembly " 

**If  we  had  a  thousand  Rondons,"  Affonso  in- 
terjected, **we  might  see  the  Indian  there  too. 
And  then  we  might  know  what  he  thinks.  .  .  . 
Ah,  listen  to  that!  There's  a  true  Indian  folk 
song." 

Below,  the  circle  of  absorbed  faces  turned  to 
the  cleared  space  in  the  center  where  a  couple 
began  to  go  through  a  series  of  intricate  steps.  A 
voice  sang: 

"O  little  frog  of  the  river  margin!" 

and  response  came  in  the  next  phrase: 

"Don't  throw  me  in  the  water!    I  should  die  of  cold." 

"O  little  frog,  what  are  you  doing  in  there?" 

— "Putting  on  my  stockings  for  my  wedding." 

"0  little  frog,  are  you  about  to  marry?" 

— "Yes,  to  have  my  own  wife  to  give  me  joy." 

Margarita  wanted  to  know  what  they  were 
drinking  from  the  little  painted  cups.  Native 
rum,  Custodio  told  her. 

**Cachaca,  very  new  and  strong.  If  those  heads 
below  were  not  dizzy  with  songs  there  might  be 
some  quarreling.  But  they'll  probably  go  to  sleep 


104     '  BLACK  GOLD 

without  the  least  trouble.  Our  people  are  always 
very  courteous  and  gentle  with  each  other  unless 
some  girl  makes  trouble.  There  really  is  no  other 
cause  for  violence  in  Brazil." 

Francina  turned  to  Evaristo,  standing  silent  by 
her  side,  his  face  pale  in  the  half  light,  his  eyes 
withdrawn.  She  murmured  to  him:  **A11  the  Bra- 
zilians except  you  are  keeping  time,  singing  the 
songs,  looking  as  if  they  were  inclined  to  go  down 
and  dance  too.  You  don't  dance'?  You  don't 
singT' 

He  answered,  smiling:  '*No,  and  I  never  drink, 
and  I  only  smoke  one  cigar  a  day. ' ' 

She  laughed  lightly.  **What  a  rigid  life!  How 
— ^how — ^uncompromising. ' ' 

He  bent  so  that  his  lips  nearly  touched  her  neck. 
*'No.  Not  that.  But  the  fact  is  that  I  have  no 
small  vices.  And  my  big  vices  are  so  immense 
that  they  have  become — could  become — ^virtues.'' 


IX 


RAIN  poured  down  in  ceaseless  torrents  next 
-  morning. 

The  river  rolled  in  long  and  sullen  lines,  mud- 
colored.  A  miasmio  chill  hung  over  the  water, 
and  the  plugging  steamer  was  comfortless,  damp 
all  through  in  a  kind  of  cold  perspiration.  The 
waiters  shivered  as  they  flitted  about,  little  cups 
of  black  coffee  in  their  hands,  their  frail  cotton 
shirts  pinned  together  at  the  neck.  Nobody  sang 
or  laughed  or  even  talked  out  loud,  and  even  the 
pack  of  immigrants  on  the  lower  deck  shrank  into 
their  hammocks  and  were  silent. 

The  forest  retreated  on  either  side,  hiding  itself 
in  the  haze  of  rain  until  it  was  nothing  but  a 
slightly  darker  shade  against  the  soft  tone  of  the 
sky  and  tawny  river.  The  huts  of  the  water  people 
were  without  a  sign  of  life.  Salvatore,  turning 
his  back  upon  the  weather,  rehearsed  his  company 
remorselessly,  taking  them  rapidly  through 
*^Boheme"  and  ^'Rigoletto''  and  ^^Tosca."  Only 
two  of  the  four  chorus  girls  could  sing  with  any 
approach  to  precision,  but  the  beauty  of  the  quar- 
tet was  undeniable  and  of  such  an  agreeable 
quality  that  Salvatore  did  not  concern  himself 
greatly  about  their  usefulness  as  more  than  orna- 
ments. He  chaffed  them  jovially,  permitting  a  red- 
haired  little  marionette,  Giulia,  to  pat  his  hand 
and  arrange  his  mane,  winking  over  her  shoulder 
to  his  unperturbed  Francina. 

105 


106  BLACK  GOLD 

'*I  am  being  tactful  with  them,"  he  said  dur- 
ing one  breathing  spell,  in  a  stage  whisper  to 
Ware.  **Who  knows!  They  might  make  so  much 
money  on  the  Amazon  that  they  will  all  go  back 
to  Italy  and  marry  dukes." 

Later  in  the  day  the  rain  ceased,  the  sun  shone, 
and  a  magic  change  came  upon  the  river.  The 
forest  steamed,  the  sky  was  blue,  the  boat  sped 
gaily.  Where  breaks  occurred  in  the  green  ranks, 
and  the  trees  stood  back,  cattle  strayed  and 
grazed  in  emerald  clearings.  Patches  of  maize 
and  sugar  cane  stood  beside  any  thatched  dwell- 
ing, the  rags  of  light-green  bananas  hung  above. 
Often,  tiny  inlets  ran  into  these  fields,  rushes  and 
bright  flowering  plants  grew  as  beside  any  brook 
of  the  temperate  zone,  and  the  spikes  of  water 
hyacinth  rocked  on  their  floats  of  glossy  leaves. 

Many  little  boats  traversed  these  waters,  some 
with  sails,  with  a  covered  end  where  the  family 
dwelt,  for  the  Amazon  is  an  eternal  field  of 
abundance  for  the  needy  of  North  Brazil.  If  cot- 
ton crops  fail,  if  cacao  trees  become  blighted  or 
debts  cannot  be  paid,  there  is  always  the  river  as 
refuge  for  a  season.  A  boat,  a  sack  of  beans  and 
flour,  and  perhaps  a  few  cheap  articles  of  exchange 
.  .  .  then  the  family  moves  from  point  to  point  of 
the  upper  waters,  fishing,  helping  with  cocoa  har- 
vests, going  to  the  sandbanks  in  the  season  for 
turtles'  eggs,  lending  a  hand  with  forest  clearing 
or  nut  gathering  or  hunting  in  the  higher  reaches 
for  the  trees  that  yield  the  caucho  rubber. 

The  Pomha  passed  Obidos  in  another  deluge 
of  rain.  The  passengers  on  the  upper  deck  sat 
together  talking  and  reading,  rather  miserable 
with  the  depression  that  invades  tropical  regions 


BLACK  GOLD  107 

directly  the  skies  are  overcast.  The  Cearenses 
huddled  under  the  sagging  awning,  silent  except 
when  some  courageous  spirit  tinkled  his  guitar, 
enduring  the  discomfort  of  the  rains  with  the 
same  grim  patience  that  bore  them  through  the 
terrors  of  the  drought.  They  did  not  fight;  they 
endured. 

Custodio,  watching  the  procession  of  the  veiled 
forest,  said  that  it  **  always  gave  him  a  curious 
sensation  of  receiving  a  challenge"  whenever  he 
returned  to  the  Amazon  after  an  absence. 

*^And  nearly  always,  as  now,  we  carry  a  variety 
of  foreign  races  upon  the  comfortable  upper  deck, 
but  below  the  space  is  filled  with  the  impover- 
ished Brazilian-born. ' ' 

*'You  are  an  Amazonense?"  Margarita  re- 
minded him,  smiling. 

**Yes,  I  am  a  native  of  the  river  too,  but  I  can- 
not get  it  out  of  my  head  that  we  are  all  adventur- 
ers, just  as  much  so  to-day  as  when  centuries  ago 
brave  men  came  gold-hunting,  hunting  for  this 
very  place  to  which  you  are  going— -you  realize 
that?  Manaos,  you  know,  is  named  after  the 
Indian  tribe  for  whose  Lake  Manoa  so  many  men 
struggled  and  died,  searching  vainly.  This  is  the 
real  home  of  the  Dorado!  And  how  many  have 
found  their  precious  gold  here!" 

Salvatore  thought  this  promising,  and  said  so, 
laughing. 

''Yes,  but  I  cannot  resist  the  impression  that 
we  are  all  rather  bold,  imposing  ourselves  upon 
this  immensity  of  river  and  forests;  and  that  all 
that  great  nature  knows  well  that  it  can  recon- 
quer again,  destroy  us,  some  day." 

Denis  interfered. 


108  BLACK  GOLD 

''Well,  we  can  all  go  away.  What  do  we  work 
for,  here  in  the  tropics  ?  Generally,  to  get  enough 
money  to  go  away." 

'^You  don't  really  mean  that,  that  the  forest 
will  blot  everything  out  again?  I  don't  think  you 
do!''  Salvatore  remonstrated.  ** Surely  science 
has  done  so  much?  There  isn't  any  yellow  fever 
now?" 

''No,  but  malaria's  worse,  because  if  you  have 
yellow  fever  you  either  die  or  get  quite  well,  while 
if  you  have  malaria  you  walk  about  as  a  living 
source  of  infection." 

''Can't  you  get  rid  of  it?  Screen  the  houses?" 

*'Up  forty  thousand  miles  of  waterways?  Drain 
the  swamps  over  hundreds  of  thousands  of  square 
miles  ?   Impossible. ' ' 

''I  don't  mind  having  fever,"  declared  Denis. 
*'You  know  I  always  get  it  six  or  seven  times  a 
year,  here.  I  prefer  fever  to  ague  or  a  cold  in  the 
nose." 

*'A  matter  of  taste.  But  in  your  cold-in-the- 
head  countries  you  can  still  bring  up  families  of 
healthy  children.  Many  of  these  riverine  regions 
cannot  do  that.  In  Para  and  Manaos,  yes.  As  you 
know,  Senhor  Antonelli,  there  are  never  any  mos- 
quitoes on  the  river  of  black  water,  so  Manaos  is 
always  healthy " 

''That  black  water  makes  people  bald,"  an- 
nounced Denis.  "It's  not  nonsense! — I  shan't 
have  any  hair  left  in  a  year  or  two."  Custodio  de 
Freitas  went  on,  without  taking  any  notice: 

"There  are  regions  of  these  upper  waterways 
where  there  is  no  native  population  at  all.  All  the 
children  born  there  die.  The  normal  state  of  the 
people  is  sickness — the  forest  fights  always 
against  them." 


BLACK  GOLD  109 

"Your  conscience  seems  to  be  pricking  you, 
Custodio.''  Evaristo  spoke  slowly. 

*'It  is  not  quite  that.  As  I  said  at  first,  I  always 
experience  curious  sensations  whenever  I  return 
to  the  deep  interior  forests,  with  our  city  in  the 
heart  of  them.''  He  reflected  and  then  went  on 
slowly:  **When  I  see  such  a  number  of  people 
crowding  up  the  Amazon  as  during  the  last  few 
years,  my  feelings  are  stirred.  I  am  proud,  I  am 
glad,  to  see  our  cities  decking  themselves  out, 
building  beautiful  palaces  and  paving  their 
streets.  I  feel  a  personal  vanity.  But  I  cannot 
resist  the  idea  that  this  is  all  exotic,  that  every- 
body is  poised  for  flight .  .  .  Brazilians  as  much  as 
anyone  else;  I  do  not  forget  that  a  few  years  ago 
Manaos  had  only  ten  thousand  people  and  to-day 
she  has  sixty  thousand.'* 

"Ah,  you  see  us  as  vultures!  Well,  we  shall 
stay  while  there  are  any  pickings, ' '  Denis  assured 
him.  "Until  something  happens  to  rubber.  If  a 
really  good  synthetic  rubber,  for  instance,  were 
discovered  by  some  meddling  chemist  ...  or  if 
presently  the  Eastern  plantations  get  into  their 
stride  and  flood  the  market. ' ' 

Custodio  stirred  and  flushed,  showing  emotion. 
"That  need  not  be  considered,"  he  said.  "How 
can  an  artificial  industry  like  that  compete  with 
the  native  home  of  the  hevea?  We  have  three 
hundred  million  untapped  trees.  It's  impossible." 
Ware  moved  away  quietly.  Custodio  went  on: 
"Besides,  the  plantations  are  known  to  be  a 
failure.  The  trees  won't  yield  latex,  and  if  they 
do  it  is  of  inferior  quality  .  .  .  and  then,  planted 
under  artificial  conditions,  disease  is  sure  to 
attack  the  trees.  They  are  rotten  with  red  rust 
already.  And  apart  from  that,  the  plantations  are 


110  BLACK  GOLD 

in  the  hurricane  belt.  The  whole  thing  is 
abnormal — quite  impossible. ' ' 

** Isn't  there  room  for  both?"  Salvatore  sug- 
gested. 

**The  Amazon  would  be  ruined."  Custodio  de- 
cided. Evaristo  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  Denis 
protested.  *^But  I  don't  think  so,  really.  Middle- 
men like  myself  would  be  hit,  but  we  could  go 
away,  as  you  said  yourself.  As  to  the  laborers, 
they  would  turn  to  any  one  of  a  dozen  legitimate 
industries — ^they  could  plant  foodstuffs,  for 
example.  I  have  often  thought  that  the  rubber 
industry  ought  to  suffer  a  blow,  and  then  the 
Amazon  would  have  a  chance  of  becoming  sane. 
Was  there  ever  such  an  economic  situation  as  we 
have  here  to-day?"  Evaristo  turned  unmoved 
eyes  upon  the  Swiss,  a  little  amused.  Denis  went 
on  emphatically:  **Here  are  rivers  full  of  fish, 
enough  to  feed  the  world,  and  nobody  but  a  few 
Indians  take  the  trouble  to  catch  and  dry  them, 
hardly  sufficient  for  the  local  needs.  Here's  the 
richest  soil  imaginable,  and  every  bean  we  eat 
comes  in  a  sack  from  Portugal.  Look  at  the 
shelves  of  the  shops!  North  American  flour, 
French  wines,  German  hardware,  Swedish 
matches,  Spanish  dried  fruit,  English  cotton  cloth. 
And  every  one  of  those  things  costs  ten  to  twenty 
times  as  much  as  it  does  in  Rio,  and  fifty  times 
as  much  as  it  did  at  home.  Cotton!  Think  of  it! 
It  grows  wild  all  the  way  from  here  to  Uruguay, 
and  yet  on  the  Amazon  we  don't  weave  one  yard 
of  cotton  cloth  .  .  .  **Ruin  the  rubber  industry — 
sim,  senhores!" 

**I  wish  you  would  come  and  make  that  speech 
some  day  before  the  State  Assembly,"  said  Evar- 
isto gently.  **It  is  highly  effective,  my  friend." 


BLACK  GOLD  111 

Next  day  the  sun  beat  down  continuously  in  a 
golden  torrent  of  steaming  heat.  Mile  after  mile 
of  cacao  plantations  edged  the  water,  massive 
little  trees  with  mottled  trunks  from  which  the 
orange  and  crimson  pods  were  suspended,  but 
these  again  gave  way  to  the  darker  and  deeper 
forest.  Margarita,  following  Ware  to  the  rail, 
asked  him:  ^'How  long  will  it  take  to  subdue  all 
this?  All  this  forest?"  ^ 

He  answered  very  seriously:  *^ About  a  million 
years.  Or  perhaps  the  forest  will  win.  Who  can 
telir' 

**It  looks  so  calm  and  still.'' 

''Because  we  are  not  fighting  it.  As  far  as  that 
goes,  none  of  us  are  really  fighting  it.  We  are 
sitting  precariously  "on  its  edges.*' 

'* Wasn't  it  the  same  with  all  other  great 
forests  r' 

'* Oh,  yes,  yes!  But  this  is  so  much  bigger.  .  .  . 
This  is  sure  to  be  the  very  last  to  go  of  all  the 
great  woodlands  of  the  world  .  .  .  the  jungles  of 
India  and  Africa  are  so  much  smaller;  drier,  more 
tamed.  They  permit  so  much  more  life  in  their 
fastnesses.  But  this  Amazonian  forest  is  the 
strongest,  rankest,  most  overwhelming  wild  thing 
left  on  earth.  Look  at  it!"  He  threw  his  hand  in 
a  quick  gesture  towards  one  bank  and  the  other. 

Washed  bright  and  clear  by  the  rains  of  the 
previous  day,  the  sky  was  of  a  brilliant  burning 
blue  that  formed  a  visible  rounded  bowl,  un- 
broken by  the  lightest  cloud.  Under  it  lay  line 
after  line  of  the  forest  walls. 

Closing  down  from  the  implacable  sky  to  the 
edge  of  the  yellow  flood  of  the  river,  and  only 
relieved  in  line  and  color  by  the  palms  and  liliace- 
ous plants  of  the  margin,  the  massed  trees  stood 


112  BLACK  GOLD 

thick,  npright,  of  a  uniform  dark  green,  the  level 
tops  spread  in  a  high  meadow  of  dense  verdure. 
Into  the  distance  the  lines  of  forest  traveled 
serenely,  endlessly,  taking  on  shades  of  pure  violet 
as  they  retreated  and  ultimately  disappearing  in 
blue,  merging  with  the  sky's  blue.  It  did  not 
appear  to  hide  the  active  world  so  much  as  to 
compose  the  world,  relentlessly,  eternally.  The 
sight  of  it  filled  the  mind  with  a  sense  of  im- 
potence, completed  by  the  presence  of  its  river 
ally,  the  wide  waste  of  tawny  water  that  seemed 
to  be  not  a  river  but  a  sea,  bearing  upon  its  long 
and  heavy  waves  the  signs  of  its  irresistible 
power. 

Tree  trunks  uprooted  and  borne  down  like 
twigs,  islands  of  floating  grass  and  weeds,  rushed 
down  the  turmoil  of  the  middle,  where  the  swollen 
current  ran  strong,  with  ripples  and  foam-crested 
waves  breaking  its  surface.  Upon  the  torn  spoils 
of  the  forest  rode  a  host  of  birds.  At  the  sides  the 
current  was  more  gentle,  moving  along  in  an 
enormous  mass  without  effort  or  interruption. 

Not  a  sound  came  from  the  forest:  no  cry,  no 
song.  Not  a  leaf  of  its  endless  succession  of  mar- 
shalled trees  appeared  to  move.  It  showed  no  sign 
of  harboring  any  living  creature.  The  only  live 
things  to  be  seen  in  all  that  broad  water  desert 
were  the  birds  that  sat,  silent  and  motionless, 
upon  the  tangled  masses  of  weeds  floating  down 
the  river. 

On  the  fourth  morning  after  leaving  Para  the 
steamer  passed  the  miniature  red  bluffs  that  show 
the  way  to  Manaos,  and  crossed  the  line  of  the 
black  water. 

Now,  with  the  Amazon  left  behind,  to  follow 
its    course    due    westwards,    the    northwesterly 


BLACK  GOLD  113 

sweep  of  the  dark  Negro  began  to  reveal  a  series 
of  scenes  that  were  as  those  of  a  different  world. 
The  tempestuous,  familiar  rush  of  the  Amazon, 
noisy  and  sociable,  was  exchanged  for  the  silent, 
almost  motionless  pressure  of  the  inky  flood  from 
the  deep  eternal  forests  of  the  Guianas,  stained 
with  long  sojourn  in  those  shrouded  haunts. 

No  more  did  the  little  gay  bushes  and  palms  of 
the  main  river  bedeck  the  banks.  Instead,  great 
masses  of  close-leaved,  close-ranked  trees  stood 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  with  no  break  at  all 
but  in  the  sudden  open  spaces  where  they  re- 
treated in  a  body  and  left  green  grassy  knolls  at 
the  margin. 

**At  the  next  turn  you  will  see  Manaos," 
Affonso  said  as  he  came  to  the  side  of  Margarita. 
She,  turning  to  glance  at  the  deck,  saw  that  her 
friend  Custodio  stood  silent,  his  small  wrinkled 
face  appearing  yellow  and  more  shrunken.  Evar- 
isto  da  Cunha,  too,  had  momentarily  lost  his  smile. 
He  walked  the  boards  apart,  his  eyes  abstracted. 

**Ah,  now  you  can  see  the  city  ..." 

The  steamer  rounded  a  little  green  hill  and  in- 
troduced a  new  scene.  Upon  a  slope  that  dipped 
again  to  the  hazy  blue-green  forest  that  backed 
and  surrounded  it,  stood  a  fantastic  medley  of 
brightly  colored  buildings,  intersected  by  long 
straight  streets  crossing  at  right  angles.  Patches 
of  light  green  marked  the  new  city  gardens;  a 
brilliant  shining  dome,  yellow  and  blue  and  green, 
caught  the  eye,  and  between  the  pink  and  white 
walls  of  completed  houses  rose  the  windowless 
frames  of  huge  new  constructions.  In  the  dazzling 
light,  with  a  blazing  sun  high  above,  a  shimmer 
of  the  air  like  an  opalescent  waving  veil  gave  to 
the  town  an  added  unreality.    It  appeared  as  a 


114  BLACK  GOLD 

mirage  of  the  river.  Nor  did  the  shrieking  of  the 
electric  cars  as  they  descended  the  hill,  or  the 
businesslike  sounds  from  the  docks  dispel  this 
impression  of  fantasy,  to  the  mind  of  Margarita. 
She  saw  the  little  fishing  village  of  fifty  years 
before,  dreaming  in  the  forest,  only  waking  for  a 
moment  when  some  wanderer  from  the  outer 
world  came  that  way;  she  saw  the  rise  and  the 
new  appareling  of  the  oasis  in  the  immense  green 
desert;  she  saw  the  stream  of  gold-lusting  men, 
and  the  struggle  that  the  ancient  gods  made  to  re- 
pel them — the  cruel  torturing  fevers,  the  madness 
that  came  upon  those  adventurers.  On  the  upper 
slant  of  the  hill  she  could  see  the  white-dotted 
patch  marking  the  cemetery  of  which  so  many 
tales  were  told,  filled  with  the  bones  of  those  who 
gambled  with  the  forest  and  lost.  She  had  a  queer 
feeling  that  if  she  shut  her  eyes  tightly  for  a 
whole  minute  and  then  looked  again,  the  city 
would  have  melted  away,  swallowed  by  the  en- 
croaching trees,  and  that  she  would  see  only  the 
thatched  huts  of  Indians  on  the  edge  of  the  black 
water. 

But,  trying  this  childishly,  she  raised  her  lashes 
to  encounter  the  clear  look  of  Ware,  his  white- 
clad  figure  blotting  out  Manaos.  Yes,  she  was 
well,  she  replied  to  anxious  demands;  she  had 
just  shut  her  eyes  to  see — something — ^better.  As 
she  spoke  she  moved  to  look  over  his  shoulder. 
It  was  still  there,  that  cobweb  town,  then!  She 
experienced  a  sudden  revulsion  of  emotion,  feel- 
ing her  youth  rise  like  a  tangible  thing,  respond- 
ing to  the  call  of  adventure.  Who  could  tell  what 
lay  here  for  them  all,  this  boatload  of  people  with 
their  fortunes  in  their  hands?  She  was  ready. 
The  city  was  a  promise  and  a  challenge. 


BLACK  GOLD  115 

Loud  orchestral  strains  suddenly  rose  from  be- 
low. The  vessel  had  edged  her  way  to  the  side 
of  the  wharf,  and  a  little  crowd  of  forty  or  fifty 
people  stood  staring  at  the  upper  deck.  All  were 
dressed  in  white  and  carried  umbrellas  like  leaf- 
cutting  ants.  A  cheer  went  up  as  somebody  caught 
sight  of  Evaristo,  and  the  city  band  broke  into 
violent  spasms  of  sound.  Evaristo,  stepping  to 
the  rail,  had  recovered  his  perpetual  smile  and 
complacence.  He  took  the  tribute  of  the  perspir- 
ing musicians  with  the  serenity  of  an  Oriental 
potentate.  A  few  minutes  later  he  exchanged  a 
few  quick  words  with  Francina,  descended  the 
gangway  with  Madame  de  Freitas  upon  his  arm, 
and  was  carried  away  in  a  huge  motor  car  to  the 
plaudits  of  the  little  crowd.  Custodio,  a  sardonic 
smile  on  his  lips,  murmured  to  Ware: 

**I  wonder  how  many  of  them  would  like  to 
stick  a  knife  in  his  back?'' 


SALVATOBE  quartered  his  company  in  a 
sunny  square  a  short  distance  north  of  the 
harbor,  the  hotel  occupying  one  corner  and  the 
governor's  long,  low  palacio  gracing  another.  The 
rooms  of  Margarita  and  her  sister  looked  out 
through  practicable  balconies  into  this  square, 
gay  with  red  and  yellow  crotons,  big  rosy  lilies 
and  scarlet  hibiscus,  and  plumed  with  little  palms 
like  green  feather  dusters. 

They  decided  that  they  liked  these  bare  rooms, 
with  no  carpets,  nothing  on  the  whitewashed 
walls,  and  no  furniture  but  the  scanty  bed,  draped 
with  mosquito  netting,  a  tiny  wooden  table,  a 
chair,  and  an  embryo  washstand.  It  wasn't  so 
frightfully  hot,  either,  with  the  long  windows  all 
wide  open,  and  the  cool  white  walls  crossed  with 
blue  shadows. 

Downstairs  at  almogo,  the  dining  room's  other 
guests  eyed  the  newly  arrived  party  with  acute 
but  suppressed  curiosity.  There  were  no  other 
women  present,  and  the  men,  all  dressed  in  white 
linen,  laughed  and  talked  a  good  deal  during  the 
long  meal.  The  Italian  manager,  very  suave  and 
alert,  hovered  about  the  opera  company,  served 
the  ladies  himself  with  the  long  succession  of 
elaborate,  highly  seasoned  dishes,  and  called  their 
attention  with  civic  pride  to  the  breeze  that  came 
in  through  the  open  shutters. 

Salvatore,  leaving  the  girls  to  unpack,  had  gone 
up  to  the  theatre  at  once  with  Laroche,  and,  com- 
ing  back   covered   in   perspiration   but   full   of 

116 


BLACK  GOLD  117 

enthusiasm,  talked  all  the  time  during  lunch.  The 
theatre  was  the  most  wonderful  sight  he  had  ever 
seen!  The  most  amazing  pale-green  marble  pil- 
lars! And  the  De  Angelis  paintings!  He  was  sure 
the  railings  of  the  staircase  were  made  of  solid 
gold.   Cost  five  hundred  thousand  pounds! 

**They  simply  don^t  care  about  the  price  of 
things,''  he  said  joyfully;  ^^did  you  notice  the 
harbor?  Marvelous!  And  the  houses!  I  saw  one 
to-day  that  cost  four  hundred  contos;  four  hun- 
dred contos  of  reis!  Just  think  of  that!" 

'*It  sounds  opulent,  darling,  like  a  lakh  of 
rupees,  but  doesn't  convey  much,"  his  wife  as- 
sured him.  *^But  don't  get  too  vulgar,  talking 
about  money  all  the  time.  .  .  .  Get  it,  by  all  means, 
but  don't  offend  our  womanly  dignity  by  remind- 
ing us."  He  reproached  her:  **My  dear,  this  is  a 
parvenu  city,  and  what  else  do  you  expect  a  par- 
venu to  discuss  but  money?"  He  subsided  into 
rather  troubled  reflections  across  the  table  to  Lar- 
oche — he  was  afraid  the  orchestra  was  going  to  be 
weak  in  the  wood  wind.  What  could  they  do? 

In  spite  of  the  beating  heat,  he  took  the  com- 
pany up  to  the  theatre  after  lunch;  two  or  three 
of  the  Manaos  theatre  committee  put  cars  at  their 
disposition,  and  the  girls  were  all  eager.  They 
ran  about  the  theatre  with  little  shrieks  of  joy, 
and  went  through  a  hasty  rehearsal  of  *^Boheme" 
light-heartedly.  Several  important  citizens  came 
in  during  the  afternoon,  and  Salvatore  rather 
grudgingly  presented  them  to  his  womenfolk.  He 
looked  with  gloomy  suspicion  upon  the  courtesies 
of  two  stout  and  opulent  merchants  to  the  pretty 
chorus,  and  yielded  without  grace  to  requests  that 
they  should  all  be  taken  while  there  was  still 
light  to  see  the  city  and  its  environs. 


118  BLACK  GOLD 

Packed  into  four  big  automobiles,  they  followed 
the  line  of  a  tramway — the  Flores  bond — passing 
along  cool,  tree-shaded  streets  lined  with  houses 
built  in  the  Portuguese  style,  with  no  concessions 
to  the  tropics,  but  very  large  and  expensive.  Most 
of  the  smaller  ones  also  were  faithful  to  the  Portu- 
guese box-like  building  idea,  many  having  tiny 
narrow  fronts  but  extending  a  long  way  back. 
**Like  the  shotgun  houses  of  New  Orleans,''  Sal- 
vatore  explained. 

**You  pay  city  taxes  on  the  frontage,  perhaps?" 
His  Manaos  host  assented,  adding:  *'You  know 
these  houses  are  called  puchada,  because  they  are 
pushed  back."  Salvatore  thought  that  this 
sounded  very  simple. 

Eunning  farther  out,  they  found  themselves  on  a 
stretch  of  high,  sandy  ground  where  coarse  grass 
grew  under  the  open  sky.  It  was  not  unlike  Sur- 
rey, Margarita  said,  if  you  didn't  see  the  little 
squat  palmettos,  and  if  you  half  shut  your  eyes 
and  said  that  those  low  bushes  were  blackberries. 

Presently,  making  other  turns,  the  car  passed 
through  a  heavily  hedged  lane  with  cottages 
where  children  and  chickens  ran  about  flowery 
gardens,  a  lane  that  had  a  familiar  air,  except 
that  in  the  green  meadows  at  the  side  there  grew 
big,  thorny  palms  with  stiff  fan  leaves,  instead 
of  oaks. 

At  the  end  of  the  car  line  stood  a  low,  pink- 
washed,  rakish-looking  building  that  declared  it- 
self a  restaurant.  Their  hosts  insisted  on  the  party 
getting  out  and  having  a  cool  drink.  Salvatore 
said  a  few  words  aside  to  the  Manaos  men,  and 
the  look  of  apprehension  on  his  face  was  only 
lifted  when  the  ferociously  pink  liquid  presently 
served  turned  out  to  be  harmless;  luckily  for  his 


BLACK  GOLD  119 

peace  of  mind,  he  was  quite  oblivious  to  the  sub- 
sequent maneuvers  by  which  Beatriz  Sforzi  and 
two  of  the  little  Italians  were,  assiduously  plied 
with  champagne. 

The  bare,  cool  room  was  hung  with  colored 
paper  streamers  and  strings  of  orange-colored 
grenadillas;  the  only  wall  ornaments,  a  few  drink 
advertisements,  depicted  ladies  of  remarkable 
contours.  There  were  some  specially  efficacious 
baths,  it  appeared,  near  at  hand,  to  add  to  the 
restaurant's  attractions.  From  the  end  of  the  car 
line  a  bend  in  the  lane  ran  up  hill,  red  and  sandy; 
they  decided  that  there  was  nothing  tropical 
about  it,  save  the  palms  and  the  umbrella  ants. 

They  went  back  just  as  night  fell  with  an  im- 
mediate blotting  out  of  the  landscape,  scarcely 
permitting  the  sight  of  the  steel  bridges  over  the 
water  inlets  to  which  their  hosts  pointed  with 
innocent  pride.  How  far  Manaos  had  fetched 
those  bits  of  steel,  and  how  much  they  had  cost! 
Fireflies  flickered  in  every  scrap  of  garden,  above 
every  hedge.  It  became  dark  with  a  kind  of  vel- 
vet, pressing  darkness  that  hemmed  in,  imposed 
itself,  a  tangible  thing.  Salvatore  remarked  on  it 
under  his  breath:  ^^I  never  felt  anything  just 
like  this!  It's  the  forest;  it  oppresses  you!  I 
really  believe  all  this  nature  conspires  to  make 
people  nervous  and  excited.  They  live  in  a  state 
of  exaltation,  because  their  feelings  are  all  thrown 
back  on  themselves.  I'd  hate  to  stay  here.  All 
we  want  is  our  money,  isn't  it,  girls?" 

He  refused  to  let  his  company  accept  invitations 
to  dinner  or  to  spend  the  evening  at  a  club,  mar- 
shalling them  back  to  the  hotel  like  a  hen  with  a 
new  brood  of  chickens.  He  was  furious  when  Bea- 
triz Sforzi  pleaded  a  headache,  stayed  upstairs, 


120  BLACK  GOLD 

and  then  disappeared  from  her  room,  and  was  not 
appeased  by  Francina^s  laughter.  **My  good 
dragon,  I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake.  The 
Sforzi  is  a  cat,  of  course,  but  she  is  also  a  grown- 
up woman,  and  there  is  really  no  reason  why  she 
shouldn't  amuse  herself.  It's  no  concern  of  yours 
so  long  as  she  sings  when  you  want  her  to." 

'^That's  just  the  trouble.  She's  going  to  have 
her  empty  head  turned,  and  if  I  don't  keep  her 
locked  up  she'll  be  breaking  her  contract.  .  .  . 
Make  her  pay!  Good  God,  suppose  she  does? 
"What's  a  few  thousand  pounds  to  me  when  what 
I  want  is  live  women  to  walk  upon  that  stage  and 
open  their  mouths?  This  trip  is  going  to  kill  me 
with  anxiety  and  worry.  The  only  girls  out  of  the 
whole  bunch  I'm  sure  of  are  you  two  and  Bianca 
— Bianca 's  too  darned  ugly  off  the  stage,  and  too 
lazy  anyhow,  to  give  me  any  trouble,  and  Mar- 
garita's a  baby.  It's  lucky  you're  married  to 
me." 

*^ Lucky?"  Francina's  brows  were  raised. 

**Yes,  precious  girl,  so  I've  got  you  safe. 
Pegged  down,  darling." 

* '  Safe.  Pegged  down. ' '  She  repeated  his  words 
listlessly  as  she  sat  on  the  dusky  veranda,  a 
cigarette  between  her  fingers.  She  blew  smoke 
into  the  night  and  murmured  again:  ** Pegged 
.  .  ."  Her  husband,  immersed  in  his  problems, 
went  on,  grumbling  half  to  himself: 

**The  sooner  we  get  to  work  the  better.  They 
all  need  something  to  think  about  before  they 
lose  their  heads."  Laroche  joined  them,  and  the 
two  men  sat  together  with  pencils  and  pads,  mak- 
ing notes  of  the  company 's  needs,  appealing  to  the 
women  now  and  again.  Laroche  had  spent  most 
of  the  day  in  hunting  for  local  musicians.    The 


BLACK  GOLD  121 

town  band,  it  appeared,  could  be  relied  upon  for 
the  drums,  a  couple  of  horns,  and  a  trombone; 
comets  would  do  very  well  in  place  of  trumpets. 
Altogether,  they  had  not  been  mistaken  in  trust- 
ing to  Manaos  for  their  brass,  and  there  were 
quite  a  number  of  decent  violins  available.  The 
wood  wind  was  a  little  more  dubious. 

**I  told  you  we  should  be  weak,''  Salvatore 
lamented,  **if  we  didn't  bring  flutes  and  oboes. 
Are  you  sure  that  Spaniard  is  all  right  with  his 
clarionet?  Bah,  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  him  being 
a  genius.  I  don't  want  geniuses.  I  want  a  man 
who  can  follow  the  score." 

Laroche  had  unearthed  an  excellent  'cellist  to 
supplement  the  expert  brought  from  Lisbon,  and 
was  disposed  to  a  roseate  view  of  things.  They 
decided  to  follow  their  original  plan  and  to  give 
*  *  Carmen, ' '  the  classic  and  inevitable,  first,  on  the 
following  Monday,  and  to  succeed  it  two  nights 
later  with  ^  *  Boheme. ' '  Next,  ^  *  Pagliacci ' '  and  the 
'^Cavalleria";  then  ^^Bigoletto."  ^^ Tosco"  to 
follow;  **if  we  can  rig  up  the  battlements  in  the 
last  act."  Perhaps  they  would  present  **Trova- 
tore"  in  its  place. 

The  next  series  could  take  care  of  itself.  Per- 
haps by  that  time  the  rest  of  the  chorus  would  be 
heard  of,  and  they  might  dare  to  give  the  com- 
pany a  few  days'  rest  while  Salvatore  or  Laroche 
went  to  Para  to  meet  them. 

Francina,  standing  up  and  yawning  openly, 
looked  upon  the  two  men,  their  faces  illumined  in 
the  hot  darkness  only  by  the  uncertain  glow  of 
their  cigars.  ** Margarita,  go  to  bed,"  she  com- 
manded. **Take  care  of  your  good  looks,  so  that 
our  lawful  owner  can  make  a  lot  of  money  out  of 


122  BLACK  GOLD 

Her  husband  paid  no  attention  to  this  feminine 
thrust,  smilingly  dealt,  and  she  departed,  taking 
her  sister  by  the  hand,  after  a  long  look  into  the 
velvet  blackness  of  the  night.  The  river  was  a 
faint  glimmering  band  in  the  distance;  the  shrill- 
ing of  cicadas  came  from  the  palms  below  in  the 
gardens  of  the  wide  square.  A  perfume  of  tropic 
flowers  rose  into  the  heavy  air.  Here  and  there 
could  be  seen  a  burst  of  light,  where  a  night  club 
stood  with  open  doors,  and  the  crash  of  a  piano 
and  a  loud  song  now  and  again  broke  the  stillness. 

Manaos  was  and  is  the  only  place  for  spending 
large  quantities  of  money  in  all  the  vast  territory 
of  Amazonas,  bigger  than  many  a  kingdom.  To 
that  center  came  all  the  rubber  gatherers  when, 
at  the  end  of  the  season  ^s  toil,  they  found  money  in 
their  pockets,  to  be  spent  in  a  week  of  rioting. 
Here  were  grouped  all  the  merchants  who  traf- 
ficked in  that  ouro  preto  drawn  by  river  paths 
from  areas  thousands  of  miles  away,  as  far  as  the 
Peruvian  and  Bolivian  boundaries.  Here  were  the 
bankers,  the  owners  of  stores  who  found  them- 
selves able  to  sell  anything  from  a  box  of  matches 
to  a  diamond  crown  when  the  boom  came,  the 
foreign  companies  who  built  tramways  and  docks 
and  breweries  and  electric  light  and  water  plants 
and  marble  palaces,  and  the  adventurers  to  whom 
the  word  went  out  over  the  world  that  El  Dorado 
awaited  them  in  the  forest. 

Rubber  went  down  the  huge  river  in  an  endless 
chain  of  cargoes,  and  back  came  in  return  more 
money  than  Manaos  could  spend.  The  little  town, 
seeing  herself  with  millions  of  revenue  where  she 
once  had  thousands,  rose  and  arrayed  herself  in 
finery.  Up  the  yellow  Amazon  came  a  stream  of 
gay  extravagances,   the  most  silken,   the  most 


BLACK  GOLD  123 

sparkling,  that  money  could  buy.  Drawn  from 
across  wide  seas,  this  tide  of  luxury  entered  the 
great  valley,  passed  through  a  thousand  miles  of 
the  dark  and  silent  walls  of  the  forest,  to  cast 
itself  upon  the  little  clearing  of  Manaos.  Accom- 
panying it  came  women,  from  the  north,  from  the 
south,  from  Europe  and  Africa;  even  smooth- 
faced, slant-eyed  girls  from  the  Orient,  made 
brave  by  the  wide-cast  tales  of  the  spendthrift 
city,  but  with  deadly  fear  in  their  hearts  of  the 
fever  that  so  often  took  its  revenge  upon  them. 
For  those  who  escaped,  with  their  hands  full  of 
money,  the  name  of  Amazonas  must  have  been  a 
thing  to  lurk  in  nightmares,  panic  fear  masked 
with  gold. 

With  wealth,  the  Amazon  acquired  politics.  Or 
rather,  politicians.  Now  that  there  was  something 
to  govern,  Amazonas  was  compelled  to  have  a 
government.  The  system  that  supervened  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years  was  basically  simple.  All 
administrative  offices,  whether  of  the  State  of 
Amazonas  or  the  municipality  of  Manaos,  were  in 
the  hands  of  a  limited  group  of  families,  arbitra- 
rily divided  into  two  opposing  sections.  When 
one  section  had  had  its  turn  of  public  office  cour- 
tesy as  well  as  expediency  demanded  a  change, 
and  the  second  series  of  families  went  into  office, 
ringing  the  changes  upon  different  personalities 
for  the  sake  of  a  more  decorative  effect. 

Towards  the  end  of  each  term  of  office  there 
rose,  as  in  every  region  ruled  over  by  the  elected, 
a  constantly  increasing  volume  of  grumbling.  The 
native-born  vote  holders,  with  the  foreign  export- 
ing merchants  egging  them  on  when  the  imposts 
upon  rubber  and  taxes  upon  business  began  to  rise 
to  unimagined  heights,  made  outcries  against  the 


124  BLACK  GOLD 

insouciant  extravagance,  the  open  giaft  and 
intrigue.  Their  complaints  were  temporarily 
allayed  by  the  flashing  of  new  political  names 
before  their  eyes ;  at  heart,  many  of  the  grumblers 
were  more  than  a  little  proud  of  the  city's  multi- 
facetted  glories,  believing  with  facility  in  the 
eternal  luck  of  the  Amazon. 

It  was  true  that  there  had  been  recessions  cf  the 
tide  of  big  rubber  prices.  Lean  years  had  more 
than  once  supervened  since  the  far-away  world 
began  to  send  its  ships  for  the  precious  gum.  But 
the  Amazonenses  preferred  to  consider  these  as 
nothing  but  periods  of  pause  in  which  the  wave 
gathered  strength — and  weren't  they  justified 
now,  when  a  pound  of  **Fine  Hard'*  brought 
twelve  solid  shillings,  mounting  from  a  modest 
two?  And  then,  even  in  the  slump  years,  there 
had  always  been  something  that  helped  them  out; 
as,  for  example,  the  time  when  exchange  went 
against  Brazil,  and  the  resident  merchant,  selling 
rubber  and  nuts  and  cocoa  abroad  for  gold,  paid 
the  native  producer  in  depreciated  paper,  and  so 
once  more  saved  his  own  cherished  skin.  With 
kind  heaven  smiling  upon  the  Amazon,  who  cared 
for  a  little  official  stealing? 

There  was  no  difference  in  the  platforms  of  the 
two  political  groups.  The  only  burning  question 
was  that  of  just  how  much  added  tax  the  exported 
rubber  would  endure:  the  only  problem,  that  of 
dividing  the  proceeds. 

Of  late,  with  over  a  million  pounds  of  public 
revenues  to  spend  in  a  town  of  thirty  or  forty 
thousand  people,  new  uses  for  public  money  had 
to  be  devised.  It  is  a  credit  to  the  imagination 
of  the  inhabitants  that  not  only  was  there  a  con- 
stant flow  of  ideas,  but  that  Manaos  also  was 


BLACK  GOLD  125 

struck  with  the  brilliant  and  quite  successful  no- 
tion of  going  out  into  the  money  markets  of  sym- 
pathetic France  and  England,  and  getting  a  few 
more  sacksful  of  gold  as  loans.  The  more  income 
you  have,  the  more  you  want  to  spend,  of  course, 
and  the  more  you  spend,  the  more  your  friends 
will  lend  to  you;  it  was  as  simple  as  it  was  pleas- 
ant. As  to  the  day  of  reckoning!  If  any  of  the 
temporary  politicians  thought  of  it,  he  also 
mentally  decided  that  on  that  day  he  would  no 
longer  exist  in  the  public  eye  as  an  office  holder, 
so  why  worry?  He  turned  his  skill  to  new  chan- 
nels for  cash  Sowings  instead. 

If,  now  and  again,  his  methods  were  a  little 
lacking  in  artistry,  who  can  blame  the  forest-bred 
politician?  There  was  the  incident  of  the  new 
palace  of  the  governor,  that  beautiful  and  ex- 
pensive building,  all  stone  and  marble  and  colored 
tiles,  that  took  three  years  to  raise — and  nearly 
six  months  of  violent  blasting  and  shoveling  to 
pull  down.  The  new  governor,  going  into  office 
and  finding  an  erection  under  way  that  was  not 
altogether  to  his  taste,  was  supported  by  quite  a 
number  of  sympathizers  when  he  decided  to  have 
a  new  one  built  to  his  own  plans  by  his  own 
friends;  but  the  opinion  of  the  foreigners  was  that 
the  thing  was  rather  clumsy.  A  bank  manager  was 
reported  to  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say:  **Some 
time  or  other  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  Manaos 
people  got  a  bit  vexed,  you  know.'' 

But  while  the  rafts  crept  out  of  the  dark  forest- 
hung  waterways  of  the  deep  inner  country  laden 
with  their  odorous  big  black  balls  of  rubber,  by 
the  hundred,  like  industrious  water  beetles;  while 
snorting  foreign  steamers  churned  up  the  great 
river  to  take  away  the  ceaseless  cargoes,  empty- 


126  BLACK  GOLD 

ing  their  holds  of  the  silks  and  pearls  and  cham- 
pagne of  the  east,  what  was  a  blown-np  palacio 
more  or  less? 

At  the  time  when  Salvatore's  opera  company 
arrived  in  the  city  an  unusual  flutter  was  proceed- 
ing in  the  political  dovecotes.  Evaristo,  to  the 
scandal  of  Manaos,  was  hardily  departing  from 
the  rules  of  the  game. 

He  was  actually  trying  to  keep  his  party  in 
power  for  a  second  term,  or  rather  to  prolong  the 
first  unduly  by  a  maneuver  which  was  denounced 
by  the  hungry  opposite  party  as  indecent.  The  late 
governor,  nominal  head  of  the  Freitas-Cunha- 
Guimaraes  group,  had  gone  into  office  when  the 
most  wonderful  period  of  the  rubber  boom  was 
dawning.  Money  came  in  floods:  it  wasn't  pos- 
sible to  spend  it  all  in  Manaos.  It  burned  the  gov- 
ernor's pockets.  His  eyes  turned  Paris-wards.  Ah, 
that  was  the  place  for  a  man  with  a  pocket  full 
of  money!  You  could  get  something  for  it  there! 
He  went,  but  in  the  hurry  of  departure  made  one 
serious  mistake. 

That  unlucky  error  was  the  signing  of  his  name 
to  a  sheet  of  blank  paper  breathlessly  presented 
to  him  by  a  perspiring  secretary,  boarding  the 
steamer  just  as  the  gangplank  threatened  to  dis- 
connect. 

**Your  excellency  forgot  to  authorize  the  ap- 
pointment of  your  cousin's  wife's  brother-in-law 
to  the  postmastership  of  the  sandbank  above  the 
third  cataract!  Sign  here,  and  we  will  fill  in  the 
decree  above  it  afterwards."  The  rash  man 
signed,  his  eye  upon  the  gangplank,  his  last  smile 
for  his  able  deputy,  Evaristo. 

Some  twelve  months  later,  with  nearly  every 
franc  of  his  savings  spent,  preparing  sadly  to 


BLACK  GOLD  127 

pack  for  home,  the  governor  receives  a  cable  from 
Manaos  telling  him  that  he  has  resigned.  And, 
rushing  back  to  look  into  this  matter,  is  met  at 
Para  with  such  efficient-looking  gunboats  that  he 
immediately  decides  to  abandon  politics  as  an 
active  career;  decides,  in  fact,  that  the  climate  of 
Rio  must  be  healthier  for  unresigned  governors 
than  that  of  the  Amazon,  and  so  goes  sailing 
southwards. 

There  was  still  almost  a  year  of  the  term  of 
office  to  run.  Nobody  had  the  least  objection  to 
Evaristo's  retention  of  his  deputyship  for  that 
unexpired  period:  that  was  according  to  the 
rules.  It  belonged  to  his  gang.  But  that  poli- 
tician, with  an  auriferous  year  behind  him,  did 
not  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  the  vision  of  his  pres- 
ently approaching  retirement.  He  made  a  bold 
move.  Remaining  always  a  little  in  the  back- 
ground, never  trying  to  obtain  the  sceptre  defi- 
nitely and  openly  for  himself,  he  induced  his 
party  to  announce  new  elections  upon  the  occa- 
sion of  the  governor's  resignation,  put  forward 
another  figurehead  of  the  clique  as  a  candidate, 
and  practically  challenged  the  second  series  of 
families  to  a  genuine  fight. 

The  good  feeling  of  Manaos  was  outraged.  This 
was  shameless!  Had  they  not  played  the  game? 
Had  they  said  anything,  anything  much,  about 
the  late  governor's  trip  to  Paris?  Had  they  said 
anything,  anything  unreasonable,  about  Evar- 
isto's  conduct  of  the  deputyship?  They  had  not, 
except  so  far  as  it  was  necessary  to  prove  their 
own  high-mindedness  to  the  public,  a  little  thea- 
tre play  that  every  intelligent  person  understood. 
They  had  played  the  game,  and  it  was  a  serious 
grief  to  them  to  discover  that  Evaristo  da  Cunha 


128  BLACK  GOLD      . 

was  issuing  a  genuine  challenge  to  them.  They 
prepared  to  resist :  marshalled  their  forces.  If  the 
Freitas-Guimaraes-Cunha  family  thought  that 
they  owned  Manaos,  they  had  yet  to  learn  that  the 
Souza-Queiroz  cousins  had  something  to  say. 

The  three  chief  local  clubs  buzzed  with  gossip. 
Nor  were  foreigners  without  interest  in  the  situa- 
tion, for  the  peace  and  the  external  and  internal 
credit  of  the  State  affected  the  merchants  and 
bankers.  Many  eyebrows  frowned  and  many  anxi- 
ous fingers  wagged  above  coffee  cups  and  tall 
glasses  at  tables  set  in  the  three  famous  cafes  or 
on  the  shady  side  of  the  pavements.  The  name 
of  Evaristo  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth.  He,  cool, 
sardonic,  taking  his  own  way  quietly,  was  per- 
haps the  least  perturbed  man  in  the  city. 

Quite  probably,  the  fact  that  the  date  of  the 
opera  company's  arrival  coincided  with  the  prep- 
arations for  his  political  coup  was  not  acci- 
dental. Evaristo  knew  his  city.  Vain  and  pleasure- 
loving,  it  might  be  at  least  a  little  distracted 
from  such  dull  matters  as  the  choosing  of  public 
officials  by  a  few  weeks  of  concentrated  entertain- 
ment. He  may  have  reckoned  on  this  as  one  of 
the  weapons  in  his  complicated  armory. 

But,  if  this  agreeable  influence  of  the  theatre 
entered  into  Evaristo 's  calculations,  there  was 
one  item  of  which  he  had  not  been  aware,  upon 
whose  potency  he  had  not  reckoned.  He  had  not 
foreseen  Francina. 


ON  a  clear  morning  just  before  six  o'clock, 
with  the  air  so  transparent  that  the  gaily 
colored  houses,  the  bright  flowers  and  shining 
leaves  of  the  gardens  looked  as  if  they  were  just 
new,  Margarita  and  Francina,  escorted  by  John 
Ware  and  Evaristo  da  Cunha,  trotted  their  rather 
scraggy  horses  along  the  stone  pavements  of 
Manaos.  From  the  hotel  door  they  went  for  a 
brief  turn  about  the  town,  passing  houses  that 
had  already  begun  to  stir  and  to  open  their 
wooden  shutters;  cafes  and  bars  and  shops 
crowded  with  piles  of  cottons  and  hammocks; 
warehouses  with  wide  doors  where  mounds  of 
black  rubber  balls  waited  entry,  alertly  guarded; 
the  Bolsa  Universal,  where  yawning  waiters 
righted  the  little  tables  and  set  out  tiny  cups  of 
steaming  coffee  before  their  first  unshaven  pa- 
trons, waiting  for  the  bond  to  take  them  to  work, 
As  they  turned  north  to  leave  the  city  Evaristo, 
riding  with  Francina,  pointed  out,  smiling,  the 
glossy  blue  and  white  patterned  tiles  that  faced 
many  of  the  houses : 

^^ Behold  a  source  of  city  revenue!  In  more 
than  one  region,  senhora!  How?  Well,  imagine 
that  a  prefect  of  aesthetic  taste  is  in  power:  he 
orders  us  all  to  face  our  houses  with  tiles  under 
penalty  of  a  fine — badly  needed  by  the  municipal- 
ity. His  successor — ^myself,  for  example — has  a 
different  idea.  He  finds  tiles  insanitary,  unsightly, 
extravagant — ^who  knows?  He  decrees  that  all 
citizens  shall  strip  their  houses  of  these  ornaments 

129 


130  BLACK  GOLD 

under  penalty  of  a  much  larger  fine.  Ai,  but  when 
one  is  a  prefeito,  and  for  so  few  of  these  golden 
official  years,  what  brains  one  needs!  It  is  so 
necessary  to  set  aside  a  few  modest  contos  for 
one's  family.  .  ." 

They  had  turned  into  a  broad  open  street  that 
rose  up  hill.  Ascending  it,  they  saw  upon  the  left 
hand  the  railings  of  a  cemetery.  It  was  very 
thickly  inhabited.  Eows  and  rows  of  dead,  some 
with  nothing  but  mounds  over  them,  crowned  by 
wooden  crosses;  some  with  elaborate  marble 
monuments;  others  surmounted  with  little  up- 
right narrow  houses,  encasing  relics  of  the  dead. 

Evaristo  checked  his  horse,  and  Francina 
stopped  beside  him,  looking  with  light  curiosity 
at  his  unusually  serious  face.  Eegarding  the 
graves,  he  said,  as  Margarita  and  John  passed  and 
went  ahead: 

*^Here  you  see  part  of  the  toll  that  the  forest 
has  taken.  Most  of  the  dead  who  lie  here  did  not 
die  of  the  common  ailments  that  attack  a  number 
of  the  weakly  in  every  city  and  hamlet  of  the 
globe.  This  is  a  special  harvest  of  the  old  reaper's, 
taken  greedily;  many  of  them  were  strong  young 
men  who  came  here  after  the  name  of  Manaos 
began  to  be  known  in  the  markets  of  the  world. 
Almost  all  who  lie  here  died  of  yellow  fever.  Died 
like  that" — he  snapped  thin  fingers.  *VThey  fell 
sick  one  day  and  were  buried  the  next.  Many  of 
them  have  I  helped  to  carry  up  thxS  hill." 

He  turned  in  the  saddle  and  looked  down.  '*That 
was  years  ago,  of  course.  There  is  no  yellow  fever 
now — no  excuse  exists  for  any  city  to  harbor  it 
any  more.  But  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago  every 
man  who  came  here,  his  veins  full  of  fresh  blood, 
unacclimated,  faced  the  chance  of  quick  death. 


BLACK  GOLD  131 

They  came  to  conquer  the  forest  and  the  forest 
conquered  them.  I  see  them  coming  up  that  hill 
in  a  long  procession  of  youth,  a  succession  of  hu- 
man sacrifices — to  what  Godf  The  God  of  Com- 
merce? No.  It  would  be  a  little  theatrical  to  say 
that;  they  came  willingly,  perhaps  spurred  by  a 
desire  for  adventure,  as  all  courageous  youth  goes 
afield.  There  are  no  crusades,  so  they  come  to 
counting  houses.'' 

They  rode  on  in  silence.  The  cemetery  appeared 
to  be  at  the  top  of  a  sandy  hill,  with  the  ground 
falling  away  on  either  hand,  for  now,  continuing 
in  the  same  direction,  they  soon  began  to  descend. 
The  street-car  line  beside  whose  rails  they  had 
ridden  as  far  as  the  graveyard,  turned  away  to 
the  right  across  the  top  of  the  town;  houses  grew 
less  on  the  straight  road  that  the  riders  followed. 
For  a  short  distance  fairly  ambitious  new  erec- 
tions stood  at  the  road's  border  on  the  left  hand, 
but  these  ended  abruptly  with  a  final  new  build- 
ing— a  considerable  structure,  a  private  house 
with  a  square  tower.  He  pointed  it  out,  and  said 
with  his  cool  smile: 

** That's  where  I  live,  where  we  make  all  our 
political  plots. ' ' 

The  road  before  them  was  wide  and  sunny, 
shaded  by  four  rows  of  thick  trees,  most  of  them 
handsome  Indian  laurels  with  glossy  leaves.  Down 
the  middle  between  a  closely  growing  avenue  of 
these  trees  ran  a  broad  paved  path  of  cement 
blocks.  On  either  side  of  this  shaded  central  walk 
was  a  sunny  road,  margined  by  sparser  trees;  on 
the  left  were  open  fields;  on  the  right  a  miniature 
red  clay  cliff  had  been  left  by  the  leveling  of  the 
highway.  On  the  top  of  this  bank  stood  a  gay 
little  assortment  of  home-made  cottages,  built  of 


132  BLACK  GOLD 

almost  anything,  one  supposed,  that  the  owner 
could  find.  Some  of  them  were  neat,  with  color- 
washed walls,  and  others  displayed  an  ingenious 
patchwork  of  stray  bits  of  board,  flattened-out 
oil  cans  and  scraps  of  sheet  iron,  the  roofs  helped 
out  with  palm  leaves. 

These  little  dwellings  on  the  town's  fringe, 
squatters  without  rights  but  with  many  privi- 
leges, grew  more  rakish  and  scrappy  as  the  road 
drew  onwards.  All  were  embowered  in  pink  and 
blue  flowering  vines,  sheltered  and  backed  by 
bananas,  mangoes,  hibiscus  bushes,  oranges — a 
tangle  of  growing  things.  Little  steps,  cut  in  the 
tiny  clay  cliff,  protected  by  scraps  of  wood,  led  to 
these  airy  bohemian  apartments.  Children's 
voices  sounded  and  small  naked  brown  bodies 
leaned  from  among  the  bushes. 

The  road  ran  down  in  a  wide  slope  and  imme- 
diately began  rising  again  to  a  crest  against  the 
sky.  As  the  riders  walked  their  horses  leisurely 
down  the  incline,  Evaristo  spoke  again,  recurring 
to  the  thought  of  the  cemetery : 

'*We  often  buried  them  in  pouring  rain.  Before 
the  tramway  was  built,  and  before  we  had  any 
carriages  or  automobiles,  we  had  money,  lots  of 
money,  especially  when  the  rubber  booms  came 
along  from  time  to  time.  But  we  had  not  what 
you  could  call  the  conveniences  of  life.  When  one 
of  our  friends  or  employees  died  we  had  to  find 
ten  men  to  carry  him,  and  it  was  considered  a 
point  of  honor  not  to  hire  helpers — even  if  they 
could  have  been  readily  found.  .  .  .  Four  men 
carried  the  coffin,  with  another  four  to  take  the 
burden  in  turn  when  the  hill  exhausted  the  first 
carriers.  Two  other  men  carried  chairs.  It  was 
customary  to  make  a  halt  halfway  up,'rest  the  coffin 


BLACK  GOLD  133 

on  the  two  chairs,  and  drink  a  bottle  of  cachaga. 
When  we  reached  the  grave,  it  was  often  found 
not  to  be  long  enough,  and  we  had  to  take  a  spade 
and  dig  in  the  rain.  Sometimes  there  was  no  priest 
.  .  .  we  read  a  few  words  ourselves.'' 

She  looked  at  him  with  such  wide  eyes  that  he 
smiled.  ^^ Don't  think  of  this  time  as  being  all 
gloomy.  When  you  become  familiar  with  death 
it  is  not  sad  or  terrible,  and  indeed  if  death  were 
to  be  dwelt  upon  under  such  conditions  the  sur- 
vivors would  find  life  insupportable.  No.  It  was 
taken  very  lightly.  Especially,  I  think,  by  the  for- 
eigners. They  used  to  say  to  each  other,  meeting 
a  man  returned  from  the  interior:  *  What,  are  you 
still  alive?'  as  if  it  were  a  great  joke.  When  a 
man  was  dying  of  fever  it  was  thought  neighborly 
of  all  his  friends  to  go  and  sit  with  him;  often 
they  could  do  nothing  to  help  him,  but  they  would 
stay  and  while  away  the  time  with  laughter  and 
card  playing  until  he  died.  Of  what  use  to  do  any- 
thing else?" 

** Women — died  too?"  she  asked  him. 

'^  There  were  none,  senhora.  Of  the  strangers, 
I  mean.  And  of  the  country,  not  so  very  many, 
either.  Except  the  families  who  had  been  long  in 
the  region  and  become  immune." 

They  had  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill.  A  little 
water  tower  stood  in  a  recess  in  the  red  bank,  level 
with  the  last  electric-light  post;  all  the  cottages 
had  been  left  behind.  Looking  forward,  to  the 
north,  they  saw  a  boundless  sea  of  green.  Deep, 
dark-green  tree  tops  swept  away  in  long  waves  in 
front  and  on  either  hand,  emerald  in  the  nearest 
flood,  tinged  with  violet  as  the  long  lines  re- 
treated, and  swallowed  up  at  last  in  a  haze  of 
purple-blue  that  met  the  paler  hue  of  the  sky. 


134  BLACK  GOLD 

**Now  you  see  a  little,  a  few  miles  only,  a  very 
little  indeed,  of  the  forest  that  encloses  us.  Look 
at  it — who  can  resist  or  counter  itT' 

They  cantered  forward,  following  the  two  other 
riders  along  the  sunny  red  road,  past  a  little  path 
that  led  down  to  the  creek,  the  igarape,  that  lay 
along  the  western  edge  of  the  city;  as  they  entered 
the  first  trees  of  the  bordering  forest,  the  Bra- 
zilian looked  at  Francina's  pretty  face  and 
changed  his  tone : 

*^I  have  told  you  too  many  sad  things!" 

''I  needn't  listen  if  I  don't  want  to!  But  now 
tell  me  something  amusing?" 

*  ^  Something  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  griefs  1 
Yes!  Women  as  lovely  as  you  should  always 
smile!  I  wonder  what  would  make  you  smile  at 
me?" 

^^I  am  laughing  at  you  now,"  she  responded  im- 
pudently, showing  all  her  little  white  teeth.  He 
stared  at  her  until  she,  perfectly  enjoying  herself, 
reminded  him:  **I  am  waiting  for  your  amusing 
story,  Senhor  da  Cunha." 

He  took  a  dramatic  long  breath  and  gave  his 
horse  the  spur.  "When  he  had  quieted  him  again, 
he  said  in  a  low,  intentionally  agitated  voice: 
**  Forgive  me.  But  it  is  your  fault.  You  are  a  mad- 
dening woman."  Francina  stooped  to  adjust  her 
stirrup,  to  hide  a  giggle.  He  began  to  speak 
lightly: 

*^You  ought  to  know  the  story  of  our  theatre, 
since  you  are  to  sing  in  it.  And  then,  if  this  pre- 
cious erection  were  nearly  to  fall  upon  your  ador- 
able head — not  quite,  because  I  should  fly  to  your 
rescue — ^you  could  never  say  that  I  had  not 
warned  you.  .  .  .  Let  us  take  this  path,  there  is 
more  shade. 


BLACK  GOLD  135 

*'Once  upon  a  time,  as  the  senhora  knows, 
Manaos  was  nothing  but  a  little  trading  point,  the 
remnant  of  a  Portuguese  fort,  an  Indian  fishing 
village,  a  place  where  they  collected  dried  fish 
and  sarsaparilla;  here  it  was,  a  cluster  of  huts 
upon  a  red  hill,  shut  in  by  the  black  water  and 
the  forest,  and  naturally  there  were  no  amuse- 
ments. Even  after  we  began  to  make  money  when 
some  obliging  person  over  in  Europe  found  out 
what  rubber  was,  our  joys  were  for  a  long  time 
only  those  of  children  of  nature — that  is,  we  only 
drank  and  gambled.  . . .  But  when  we  became  con- 
vinced that  to  possess  much  money  was  our 
normal  state  as  the  good  God  intended  it,  our 
souls  commenced  to  long  for  a  little  more  diver- 
sion,'' 

She  interrupted  him:  ** What's  that  queer 
noise?" 

'*A  bird  only  ...  do  I  bore  you?" 

**  Indeed,  no!  I  am  dying  with  curiosity  I  Nat- 
urally, your  amusements  and  solaces  are  of 
extreme  interest  ..."  He  glanced  at  her  a  little 
suspiciously  before  he  went  on: 

^*I  remember  very  well  the  first  troupe  that 
ever  arrived  at  our  water  gates.  They  were  Spani- 
ards who  had  been  playing  all  over  South  Amer- 
ica. There  were  two  men  and  a  woman.  One  man 
played  the  violin  and  the  other  did  acrobatic  and 
conjuring  tricks,  and  the  woman  assisted  with 
the  guinea  pigs  and  the  silk  hat  and  paper  flags, 
and  so  on.  As  a  culmination  of  their  misdeeds 
they  all  sang.  ...  It  was  a  very  bad  performance, 
and  the  lady  was  about  forty-seven  years  old; 
she  had  never  been  a  Helen,  in  her  best  day.  Prob- 
ably you  do  not  know  that  it  is  said  that  those 
amiable  ladies  who  are  so  good  as  to  visit  these 


136  ^  BLACK  GOLD 

mundos  do  Chrisiq  of  the  South  American  East 
Coast,  to  bestow  tnei^r  foreign  smiles  upon  us  un- 
worthy ones,  always'^^ile  first  at  Buenos  Aires. 
I,  as  a  loyal  and  proud  Brazilian,  believe  this  to  be 
jintrue.  I  am  firmly  of  the  opinion  that  Sao  Paulo 
is  the  favored  spot.  Or  perhaps  Rio  .  .  .  the 
coffee  crops,  you  know.''  He  meditated  for  a 
moment. 

''However  that  may  be,  they  say  that  when  the 
freshness  of  the  smile  fades  a  little  with  much  ex- 
ercise, Bahia  and  Pernambuco  are  the  next  to 
bask.  And  when  a  certain  trace  of  crows 'feet  or 
increasing  stoutness  is  reflected  by  the  too-candid 
mirror,  travel  is  resumed  slowly  northward  .  .  . 
to  Para.  And  when  fickle  Para  is  no  longer 
grateful,  then  the  journey  up  the  Amazon,  where 
nothing  feminine  was  ever  refused  an  ecstatic 
welcome. ' ' 

At  her  signal  they  turned  the  horses  and  began 
to  retrace  their  way. 

''So  it  was  with  the  lady  juggler.  Our  theatre 
at  that  time  was  a  kind  of  barn.  It  had  begun  life 
as  a  warehouse  for  rubber.  There  was  only  one 
floor,  and  the  elite  in  the  boxes  were  divided  from 
the  rest  of  the  audience  by  upright  pieces  of  sheet 
iron.  When  the  people  wanted  to  signify  their 
approval  of  any  act,  they  kicked  the  iron.  They 
were  a  little  exuberant.  I  am  sure  you  understand, 
senhora.  Your  audiences  will  not  conduct  them- 
selves like  that  to-day.  .  .  .  They  threw  things, 
too,  money  and  bonbons  and  other  tokens.  They 
did  not  mean  any  harm  at  all,  but  a  notice  had  to 
be  put  up:  'Please  do  not  throw  anything  that  is 
likely  to  injure  the  performers.'  " 

"It  must  have  been  something  like  a  California 
mining  camp  in  the  gold  rush  last  century?" 


BLACK  GOLD  137 

**Yes.  Perhaps  our  excitable  people  were  even 
more  excitable  than  the  Californians,  because 
there  was  not,  among  the  foreigners  at  least,  any 
nucleus  of  a  population  that  meant  to  settle  down 
and  stay.  They  were  all  infected  with  the  idea 
that  they  were  here  just  for  a  moment  to  make  a 
lot  of  money,  and  that  they  would  get  it  and  go — 
if  the  yellow  fever  didn't  get  them  first." 

'^And  the  jugglers  f 

**Alas!  They  gave  but  one  performance.  For 
the  audience  fell  in  love  with  the  lady,  and  she 
smiled  agreeably  upon  them,  and  presently  when 
some  of  the  men  in  the  boxes  made  a  good  deal 
of  noise  and  started  a  quarrel  with  the  two  Span- 
ish principals,  quite  a  scene  was  created.  It  ended 
by  a  group  of  the  audience  climbing  up  on  to  the 
stage  and  beating  the  Spaniards,  while  the  lady 
was  spirited  away,  to  safety,  no  doubt,  by  some- 
body else.  Ah,  those  were  enthusiastic  days!  But 
please  believe  me,  no  Brazilians  were  concerned 
in  all  this — the  high  spirits  of  the  foreigners, 
senhora. ' ' 

**Why  do  you  insist  upon  thatT'  she  asked  him 
blandly.  *'Are  you  trying  to  assure  me  that  my 
— my  chorus — is  quite  safe?" 

He  bent  fathomless  eyes  on  her.  ''If  I  knew 
what  you  meant  by  'safe'  .  .  ."  he  murmured. 
'^But  as  to  my  jugglers — how  strangely  fate  turns 
the  tables!  For  can  you  believe  that  presently 
many  charming  ladies  deigned  to  ascend  the  river, 
and  actually  contended  for  our  society.  What 
bliss!  I  remember  a  case  when  a  delicious  little 
dancer  looked  from  the  stage  too  sweetly  at  one 
of  our  wealthy  merchants  for  the  content  of  the 
lady  by  his  side,  and  she,  rising  in  her  injured 
dignity,  marched  on  to  the  stage  and  slapped  the 


138  BLACK  GOLD 

dancer's  face.  .  .  .  Ebullitions  of  youth!  These 
things  do  not  happen  now! 

**I  think  that  we  attained  to  more  dignity  when 
our  theatre  was  built.  "We  put  on  more  reserved 
manners,  to  suit  the  splendor.  When  it  was 
opened  and  the  order  went  forth  that  everyone 
was  to  wear  evening  dress  there  really  was  a  wild 
hunt  all  over  the  town  for  fragments  of  those  gar- 
ments. I  know  of  three  friends  who  shared  such 
a  suit,  and  got  into  the  performance  over  the  pro- 
tests of  the  doorkeeper.  But  it's  a  long  time  ago 
since  every  citizen  who  wears  a  coat  at  all  be- 
came the  possessor  of  an  imported  suit  of  correct 
evening  clothes.  We  may  live  next  door  to  the 
forest,  but  there  is  nothing  that  a  ship  can  carry 
that  we  are  not  prepared  to  pay  for,  and  we  want 
everyone  to  know  it.'' 

They  walked  their  horses  under  dark-green 
arches,  through  which  the  light  came  in  bright 
patches;  there  was  no  sound  at  all  in  the  forest 
but  the  faint  humming  of  insects. 

**Tell  me  about  the  theatre!" 

** Indeed,  I  must  tell  you!  It  is  unmatched!  It 
is  delicious!  I  know  that  no  other  theatre  in  the 
world  has  such  a  story.  .  .  .  Determining  that  we 
must  have  a  fine  theatre  to  agree  with  our  new 
wealth,  we  chose  a  magnificent  plan  for  it.  Our 
theatres  have  to  serve  for  receptions  and  balls,  as 
well  as  for  stage  performances,  so  we  agreed  with 
an  expensive  architect  upon  a  scheme  that  gave 
us  the  sumptuous  rooms  and  galleries  that 
you  have  seen.  And  since  money  was  no  object, 
we  decided  to  carry  it  out  with  exquisite  marbles 
and  metal  work,  paintings  and  panels  and  so  on. 

*^The  materials  must  have  come  from  half  the 
globe.  As  we  were  in  a  hurry  to  see  it  go  up,  it 


BLACK  GOLD  139 

was  thought  best  to  build  it  of  reinforced  con- 
crete, and  we  sent  to  Belgium  for  the  structural 
steel.  Belgians,  as  you  may  know,  senhora,  are 
the  best  steel  workers  in  the  world.  But  they  have 
the  fault  of  being  careful  with  all  that  they  do. 
You  cannot  hurry  them.  So  it  happened  presently 
that  here  we  were  in  Manaos,  staring  at  barrels  of 
cement,  blocks  of  lovely  marble,  beautiful  pieces 
of  wrought  iron  and  so  on;  it  began  to  accumulate 
in  piles;  the  site  for  the  theatre  was  leveled  and 
prepared,  and  there  we  were  waiting.  And  no 
steel  came  along  to  raise  all  this  seductive  mate- 
rial to  life.  We  became  a  little  impatient.  We 
regarded  those  fascinating  barrels  and  crates  and 
packing  cases  with  longing. 

'*At  last  one  day  gangs  of  workmen  were  to  be 
seen,  busy  on  the  space  where  the  theatre  stands 
to-day.  Under  the  direction  of  a  local  contractor, 
the  cement  was  being  mixed  and  put  into  moulds. 
In  another  day  or  two  the  walls  were  going  up. 
You  see,  we  had  the  beautiful  plans,  with  all  the 
measurements,  and  we  made  up  our  minds  to 
build  the  walls,  leaving  a  hollow  space  between 
the  outer  and  the  inner  layers,  so  that  the  steel 
framework  could  be  dropped  in  when  it  came  at 
last.  Everybody  was  enchanted!  Our  theatre  rose 
daily,  before  our  eyes. 

**When  the  walls  were  more  than  half  their 
present  height,  a  steamer  came  up  the  river  with 
the  Belgian  engineer  and  his  structural  steel  on 
board.  .  .  .  What  did  he  say"?  What  did  he  say? 
Madame,  I  assure  you,  I  never  saw  a  man  with 
quite  so  much  expression  on  his  face  as  that  engi- 
neer when  he  saw  our  theatre.  I  remember  that 
he  said  'Mon  Dieu!'  many  times,  like  a  machine 
gun.  He  had  an  assistant  with  him,  and  these  two 


140  BLACK  GOLD 

•went,  without  even  stopping  to  eat  or  drink,  or 
change  their  clothes,  or  even  to  speak  civilly  to 
the  Manaos  reception  committee,  and  took  their 
instruments  and  measured  our  handsome  walls. 
He  came  into  my  office,  perspiring  terribly,  and 
said  to  us:  *You  will  have  to  pull  it  down.' 

**  We  told  him  at  once  that  we  should  do  no  such 
thing.  *  You  put  your  steel  framework  in  the  nice 
little  spaces  we  have  left  for  you,'  we  said. 

**  ^That  is  an  excellent  idea,'  he  said.  *But  your 
builder  has  been  somewhat  too  generous  in  his 
ideas.  Your  theatre  is  several  metres  longer  and 
broader  than  it  should  be.  My  steel  framework 
does  not  fit  this  erection.' 

**  *My  dear  engineer,'  we  said,  *that  is  your 
business.  You  make  it  fit.  Stretch  it  or  some- 
thing!' " 

**  *  Impossible,'  he  said.  *A11  the  angles  are 
wrong.  Your  theatre  must  come  down.'  ...  Do 
you  think  we  were  going  to  tear  down  that  beau- 
tiful building,  the  pride  of  Manaos?  Never!  We 
told  him  so.  We  begged,  commanded,  implored; 
we  tried  to  bribe  him.  No,  he  wouldn't.  At  last 
he  began  to  talk  of  the  damage  to  his  professional 
reputation.  When  a  man  does  that,  you  know  he 
is  weakening.  We  realized  that  it  was  only  a  ques- 
tion of  how  many  contos  of  reis  it  would  take  to 
repair  the  damage:  and  in  the  end  he  listened  to 
reason.  He  opened  the  angles  and  patched  it  up. 
But  I  don't  think  the  work  was  ever  quite  the 
same — you  will  notice  a  few  cracks.  .  .  .  And  the 
fact  is  that  two  other  things  happened  to  weaken 
those  unfortunate  walls  of  ours.  ' 

**Did  you  see  the  dome?  Yes?  That  was  not 
our  dome  originally.  No.  It  was  ordered  from 
Holland  for  Sao  Paulo.    They  are  really  lovely 


BLACK  GOLD  141 

Dutch  tiles.  But  when  Sao  Paulo  saw  it,  they 
didn't  like  it,  and  they  said  they  would  not  have 
it.  They  were  just  about  to  ship  it  back  to  Am- 
sterdam when  Manaos  happened  to  hear  of  it.  We 
sent  a  cable  without  losing  a  minute,  telling  them 
not  to  send  it  back.  We  would  take  that  dome. 
We  were,  in  fact,  in  the  market  for  almost  any- 
jbhing  so  long  as  it  cost  enough. ' ' 

*^ It  is  a  wonderful  dome,''  she  said.  *^You  can 
see  it  for  miles." 

**  Unhappily  it  is  rather  heavy,  and  it  may  have 
helped  to  crack  the  walls.  There  is  a  fine  golden 
statue  standing  down  in  the  gardens  that  we 
meant  to  put  on  the  top  of  that  theatre  too,  but 
that  seemed  courting  trouble,  after  we  saw  the 
cracks.  And  then  there  was  another  thing.  We  ar- 
ranged to  have  a  splendid  modern  scientific  fire- 
extinguishing  system,  and  you  can  see  the  lines 
of  pipes  and  sprays  all  through  the  interior;  but 
it  isn't  in  working  order,  because  we  don't  dare  to 
fill  the  water  tanks  on  the  roof.  If  we  did,  it 
would  be  the  last  straw. 

** Nobody  cared!  We  had  our  brand-new  the- 
atre, and  when  it  was  opened  we  went  in  swarms, 
despite  the  cracks  and  the  prophecies  of  the  timid 
who  said  it  would  fall  on  us.  And  as  you  see,  it 
still  stands,  perhaps  in  not  such  bad  condition, 
after  all.  From  here  you  can  see  it." 

They  checked  their  horses  upon  the  ridge  of 
the  road  that  fell  away  and  then  rose  again  to  the 
city;  red  roofs  shone  in  the  sunlight,  the  brilliant 
dome  heaving  from  among  them  with  its  blue  and 
yellow  and  green.  Margarita  and  Ware  cantered 
up  behind  them. 

These  two  had  scarcely  exchanged  a  hundred 
words  during  the  ride.   They  rode  far  along  the 


142  BLACK  GOLD 

direct,  broader  forest  path,  she  enchanted  with 
the  sun-flecked  tunnel  of  green,  the  butterflies  and 
strange  plants;  he,  plainly  preoccupied.  As  they 
returned  he  showed  her  a  little  track  that  ran  off 
at  right  angles  to  the  west;  a  tall  buttressed  tree 
at  the  corner  of  it  was  heavily  notched  some  four 
feet  from  the  ground. 

**Down  this  path,  about  half  a  mile,  you  reach 
one  of  the  black  creeks  that  run  up  through  the 
city,"  he  said.  **I  keep  my  own  motor  boat  there 
— ^it  's  not  quite  such  a  handy  place  as  a  spot  lower 
down  would  be,  but  I  have  my  own  reasons. ' '  She 
turned  her  horse 's  nose  to  the  little  trail. 

**It  looks  very  mysterious,''  she  informed  him. 
**I  am  inclined  to  explore  it.'' 

**Well,  it's  very  narrow,  covered  with  grass 
and  weeds;  hardly  a  path  at  all.  But  you'd  find 
Vicente  and  the  Boto  at  the  end.  He's  getting  her 
into  shape  for  a  trip  to  the  plantation  up  the 
Negro,  you  know,  that  I'm  interested  in  .  .  . 
Boto?  It  means  a  sort  of  bewitched  creature  that 
lives  in  the  water  .  .  .  the  Indians  have  quite  a 
few  tales." 

''You're  not  going  to  stay  in  Manaos  for  our 
first  performance?"  she  cried,  reproachful,  and 
he  answered  her  soberly:  ''Miss  Channing,  I  had 
better  get  away.  I  am  very  busy.  And  you — ^you 
have  your  friends. ' '  He  looked  at  her  with  close- 
lipped  and  desperate  tenderness  and,  moving  his 
horse  on,  added  quickly,  "Exploring  down  my 
paths  is  rather  dark  and  thorny  work — ^I  won't 
encourage  you.  You  might  be  sorry.  You  belong 
in  the  sunshine." 

When  they  rejoined  the  others  and  presently 
came  again  upon  the  head  of  the  broad  road  that 
led  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  the  cemetery  within 


BLACK  GOLD  .  143 

its  railings  at  their  right  hand,  Ware  made  his 
farewells  to  Francina  and  her  sister. 

''If  you  will  excuse  me — I  have  to  make  a  call 
before  breakfast.'' 

Francina,  frankly  inquisitive,  demanded: 
''Upon  whom,  at  this  hour?  "Why,  it  isn't  nine 
o'clock." 

"Luisinha  and  the  babies.  I  needn't  stand  upon 
ceremony  with  them,  and  I  have  some  little  par- 
cels here  to  give  them.  I  haven't  much  time — I 
am  leaving  to-night  for  the  seringal  up  river. ' ' 

"I  think  you  have  a  soft  spot  in  your  hard  Eng- 
lish heart  for  that  little  fair  girl,"  declared  Fran- 
cina idly,  and  he  answered  at  once,  '^Indeed  I 
have;  there's  a  special  reason  for  it."  She  eyed 
him  rather  oddly,  remaining  a  trifle  thoughtful  as 
the  three  trotted  back  to  the  hotel. 

Riotous  sounds  greeted  them  as  they  dis- 
mounted. Salvatore,  thumping  a  piano  of  ancient 
if  dishonorable  lineage,  was  dragging  the  scanty 
chorus  through  the  gypsy  song  from  "Carmen." 
Francina  was  taken  with  a  sudden  spasm  of 
laughter,  and  said  lightly  to  Evaristo  as  he  bowed 
his  adieu:  "What  do  you  think  of  my  energetic 
husband  ?  "  To  which  he  replied  under  his  breath : 
*'I  do  not  think  about  your  husband." 

They  went  in  to  a  wild  accompaniment. 


xn 

IN  the  stifling  heat  of  high  noon,  Margarita  sat 
and  wrote  steadily.  She  had  pushed  the  one 
little  crazy  table  in  her  bedroom  close  to  the  open 
shutters  giving  upon  the  balcony,  and  looked 
through  the  railings  whenever  she  raised  her  head 
to  the  motionless  palms  and  scarlet  flowers  in  the 
garden  of  the  square  below. 

Francina,  listless  with  the  heat,  could  be  de- 
pended upon  to  neglect  every  mail.  Salvatore, 
with  a  rising  temperature  and  consequent  moodi- 
ness, was  trying  to  sleep  off  a  big  dose  of  quinine. 
So  Margarita,  thinking  of  the  Sansoe  postman 
waited  for  along  a  moorland  path,  dipped  a 
rusty  pen  in  watery  ink  and  turned  her  page. 

"■^We  are  apparently  going  to  have  a  succes  fou, 
and  you  will  never  again  tear  us  from  the  stage. 
We  gave  our  first  performance  last  night.  I  didn't 
sing,  but  occupied  a  box,  wearing  my  silvery  dress 
and  trying  to  look  like  a  distinguished  part  of  the 
audience.  But  I  had  to  keep  jumping  up  and  run- 
ning to  the  dressing  rooms  to  peep  at  Bianca  and 
Beatriz  and  Francina,  and  to  the  flies  to  stare  at 
the  stage,  listening  to  bits  that  I  could  really  have 
heard  much  better  from  the  box.  It  was  lovely! 
We  gave  *  *  Carmen, ' '  and  Beatriz  looked  beautiful, 
but  it  was  Francina  who  got  the  most  applause 
because  she  sang  deliciously  and  was  as  fair  as 
an  angel  among  so  many  brunette  complexions. 
The  men  were  all  very  good,  but  nobody  took  the 
least  notice  of  them.  The  audience  was  nearly  all 

144 


BLACK  GOLD  145 

Manaos  merchants  and  politicians,  with  so  few 
wives  that  you  could  count  them  on  your  hands. 
We  had  to  rake  the  city  for  a  decent  band  of  gyp- 
sies, and  some  of  them  got  stage  struck  and  were 
left  in  front  of  the  curtain — the  audience  ap- 
plauded rapturously. 

**  Everybody  is  tremendously  kind  to  our  com- 
pany's shortcomings.  Nobody  smiled  when  Bea- 
triz  cracked  on  her  top  notes — ^you  know  she 
always  does  when  she's  excited.  The  whole  city 
seem  to  take  a  paternal  interest  in  us  and  wants 
to  invite  us  out.  When  we  were  patching  up  the 
scenery  for  days  after  we  arrived,  half  Manaos 
came  to  help  us.  Salvie  locks  the  doors  during  re- 
hearsals now,  only  he  daren't  shut  out  the  million- 
aires. The  theatre  is  lovely  when  it  is  lighted  up, 
but  Francie  says  she  has  to  keep  her  eyes  away 
from  the  startling  row  of  celebrities'  portraits 
hung  in  mid-air  below  the  balcony.  Heaps  and 
heaps  of  flowers  were  sent  to  us,  but,  alas!  they 
are  nothing  but  shrivelled  brown  rags  in  an  hour 
or  two.  These  tropical  flowers  don't  last  like  our 
sturdy  roses  at  Sansoe. 

*^We  are  to  give  'Boheme'  next,  and  I  am  to 
make  my  debut.  Of  course  I  pretend  to  be  nerv- 
ous, just  so  as  to  make  as  much  sensation  as 
Beatriz,  who  always  faints  and  has  hysterics  be- 
fore she  goes  into  action.  But  I  am  not  a  bit 
nervous  really.  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that 
everyone  is  friendly,  that  they  are  going  to  treat 
me  with  indulgence,  and  that  it  is  all  a  big  joke. 
I  think  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  has  something 
to  do  with  this  feeling;  it  is  exciting,  and  you're 
always  on  tiptoe  for  strange  experiences.  I  feel 
rather  blank  when  things  turn  out  to  be  quite 
commonplace.   The  stage  seems  to  be  set  all  the 


146  BLACK  GOLD 

time  for  something  breathless,  and  it  is  no  more 
exciting  to  walk  upon  the  theatre 's  board  than  to 
step  out  on  this  balcony  in  front  of  my  little  table, 
to  see  a  load  of  big  black  balls  of  rubber  passing, 
and  a  little  way  behind  them  a  gaunt,  ragged, 
drooping  family  from  the  drought  country." 

Eeading  over  this  last  paragraph,  Margarita 
tore  up  the  page.  No,  that  was  not  the  sort  of 
thing  to  write  to  Sansoe.  She  re-took  her  tale 
upon  a  different  theme. 

**We  are  havmg  a  delightful  time,  as  far  as  Sal- 
vatore  will  let  us,  but  he  is  very  tyrannical!  The 
seductions  of  the  most  courtly  men  are  frowned 
upon,  much  to  our  grief;  and  the  only  invitations 
we  are  permitted  by  our  ogre  to  accept  are  fam- 
ily parties  and  morning  rides.  Meanwhile  we  are 
all  quite  well  and  the  weather  isn't  nearly  so  hot 
as  you'd  think.  I  assure  you  that  the  Amazon  is 
maligned.  There  aren't  any  mosquitoes.  I  ride 
every  morning  with  some  of  our  friends,  often  on 
open  sandy  country  that  might  be  Surrey — actu- 
ally, I  have  seen  sheep!  Rather  disappointingly 
tame  animals,  when  you  are  hoping  for  boa-con- 
strictors and  tigers. 

**  Yesterday  our  good  Madame  de  Freitas  in- 
vited us  to  a  family  gathering.  We  went  in  great 
state,  our  magnificent  motor  car  taking  us  first 
for  a  drive  through  streets  full  of  thick  shade 
trees,  very  sunny  and  with  awfully  blue  shadows. 
All  the  houses  are  washed  with  pale  colors  so  that 
everything  has  a  bright  pearly  look.  We  came  at 
last  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  stopped  be- 
fore a  high  white  wall  with  showers  of  bright 
purple  bougainvillea  falling  over  it.  A  huge  green 
door,  solid  enough  to  keep  out  a  besieging  force, 
flew  open,   and  bowing  wonderfully  stood  our 


BLACK  GOLD  147 

friend  Custodio.  We  went  indoors  and  here  was  a 
tremendous  array  of  people,  crowds  of  people, 
babies,  small  mites  toddling  about,  little  thin 
girls  and  thick  fat  boys,  and  a  hovering  flock  of 
slim  youths  in  their  teens;  and  lots  of  quite  beau- 
tiful young  girls  with  creamy  skins  and  great 
dark  eyes. 

''In  chairs  all  round  the  room  sat  serene  ma- 
trons, every  one  of  them  handsome  and  contented 
looking  and  queenly.  Several  men  came  in  later; 
you  could  really  divide  them  into  two  chief  types 
— big,  rather  stout  full-faced  ones,  and  the  thin, 
small  bird-like  kind  who  often  have  rather  large 
heads,  and  who  always  say  something  interesting 
when  they  talk.  Our  Custodio  is  one  of  these. 
They  seem  to  be  very  acute,  a  little  pessimistic, 
and  they  stand  off  and  regard  themselves,  their 
neighbors,  the  Amazon  and  Brazil,  and  all  sorts 
of  international  affairs  ironically.  I  have  never  in 
my  life  heard  people — not  even  Mrs.  Grenville — 
make  such  withering — no,  blasting — surveys  of 
their  own  environment.  I  have  a  kind  of  instinct 
never  to  agree  with  them,  though. 

''We  soon  found  out  that  all  this  enormous 
crowd  of  people  belonged  to  the  house;  they  were 
either  of  the  Freitas  or  Guimaraes  or  Cunha  fam- 
ilies. I  can't  believe  that  they  all  lived  in  that 
house,  because  there  were  certainly  between 
twenty  and  thirty  of  them;  but  if  they  don't  all 
sleep  there,  they  seem  to  run  in  and  out  of  each 
other's  homes  all  the  time.  I  do  not  wonder  now 
that  the  women,  the  real  Portuguese  and  Brazilian 
women,  don 't  go  out  much.  If  they  want  diversion 
and  social  life  all  they  have  to  do  is  to  stay  at 
home.  There  are  all  kinds  of  exciting  things  to  see 
and  discuss  without  ever  going  outside  the  garden 


148  BLACK  GOLD 

walls.  Just  think,  Mesdames  de  Freitas  had  eleven 
children,  and  all  of  them  are  alive  but  one,  who  was 
killed  by  Indians  in  the  forest  of  Matto  Grosso 
when  he  was  putting  up  a  telegraph  line.  Some  of 
them  are  in  Para  and  two  daughters  are  in  a  con- 
vent, but  quite  a  lot  of  them  are  here,  married, 
with  heaps  of  children  of  their  own,  and  some  of 
those  are  married,  too.  A  couple  of  the  babies  are 
madame's  great-grandchildren,  and  she  is  only 
sixty,  although  she  might  be  any  age.  Her  face  is 
all  covered  with  wrinkles,  out  of  which  a  wonder- 
ful smile  comes;  she  has  bright  big  eyes  and  wavy 
black  hair  with  only  a  few  gray  threads. 

'^They  all  seem  to  like  each  other  very  much. 
One  of  the  daughters-in-law  is  French,  and 
came  straight  to  the  bosom  of  this  family  when 
she  married.  She  said  to  me  that  the  only  thing 
that  bothered  her  was  that  none  of  her  sisters-in- 
law  ever  had  a  cross  word  with  each  other;  it  was 
rather  dull  for  her.  The  funny  thing  is  that  while 
all  the  children  are  adored,  they  don't  seem  spoilt, 
and  it  is  delicious  to  see  them  half  kneel  and  kiss 
the  hands  of  the  grown-up  people  whenever  they 
go  in  or  out.  I  shall  teach  Brooke  these  nice  man- 
ners when  I  come  home. 

'^"We  had  an  immense  quantity  of  things  to  eat, 
served  on  an  enormously  long  table  that  nearly 
filled  the  big  airy  room,  with  windows  opening  on 
to  a  garden  full  of  palms  and  tuberoses  and  flow- 
ering creepers.  We  had  soup  made  with  black 
beans,  a  fish  cooked  whole  (a  tremendous  crea- 
ture), and  served  with  red  pepper  sauce  and  herbs 
that  tasted  very  good,  chicken  done  with  yellow 
rice,  and  then  a  feijoada — this  was  the  piece  de 
resistance!  It  was  stupendous!  At  that  stage  I 
couldn't  eat  very  much  unfortunately,  but  I  was 


BLACK  GOLD  149 

able  to  understand  its  possibilities.  Everyone 
seemed  pleased  to  tell  us  how  everything  was 
cooked — it  isn't  bad  manners  to  comment  on  the 
food,  or  at  least,  they  said  it  wasn't  when  we 
asked  them.  But  perhaps  that  was  just  their  good 
manners  again!  You  put  came  seccay  tongue, 
ham,  chicken  into  a  thick  stew  of  black  beans; 
you  serve  it  with  a  heap  of  farinha  de  mandioca, 
very  much  like  sawdust  to  look  at,  and  somebody 
peels  an  orange  for  you  and  you  stir  it  all  up  and 
eat  steadily  for  about  a  week,  with  some  green 
stuff  called  cova. 

'^Next,  sweets — doceSy  made  with  fresh  Brazil- 
ian nuts,  pounded  up  with  sugar,  ever  so  good. 
We  drank  (very  little  drops,  with  Salvie  glaring 
at  us  and  thinking  out  loud  about  our  precious 
throats)  Portuguese  wines  and  then,  at  the  end, 
little  cups  of  strong  black  coffee.  Imagine  all  that 
food  at  midday  in  a  boiling  hot  climate,  and  yet 
people  seem  to  thrive  on  it.  It  makes  you  wonder 
if  there  isn't  a  terrible  lot  of  nonsense  talked 
about  the  sort  of  food  you  ought  to  eat.  Here  half 
the  population  eats  what  should  be  heaps  too 
much  meat,  and  the  other  half  lives  entirely  upon 
mandioca,  and  yet  here  they  are  quite  alive  and 
pretty  strong,  I  suppose." 

Looking  up  from  her  letter,  the  eyes  of  the  girl 
were  caught  by  the  rapidly  moving  figure  of  a 
man  who  crossed  the  pavement  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road  beneath  her  window,  in  a  blaze 
of  sun.  John  Ware !  Disappearing  in  the  distance 
without  calling  upon  her,  without  caring  if  she 
was  alive  or  dead,  indifferent!  Detestable  person, 
she  cried  to  his  retreating  back.  Taking  up  her 
pen,  she  wrote  hurriedly: 

'^Our  friend  Mr.  Ware  neglects  us  abominably. 


150  BLACK  GOLD 

He  sent  a  note  to  say  he  was  leaving  the  city  a 
few  days  after  we  got  here,  and  all  I  have  seen  of 
him  since  he  returned  is  the  back  of  his  head '' 

At  that  moment  something  light  caught  her 
eyes  again;  the  white-clad  figure  of  a  man  who 
once  more  passed  along  the  pavement  below.  John 
Ware  returning,  but  still  hurried,  still  oblivious. 
Resentment  surged  in  her  heart,  and  she  did  not 
know  why  she  rose  and,  standing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  shutter,  watched  him  approach  the  comer. 
He  reached  it,  and  there  hesitated,  half  turned, 
looked  up  at  the  hotel;  stood  with  his  eyes  for 
four  long  seconds  fixed  upon  the  balcony  of  Mar- 
garita's room,  and  then,  with  a  curious  quick  ges- 
ture, a  hasty  clenching  and  flinging  of  his  hand, 
turned  the  corner  and  was  out  of  sight. 

Again  Margarita  tore  up  part  of  her  letter.  As 
she  took  up  her  pen  once  more  and  went  on  writ- 
ing, her  lips  parted  in  smiles. 

**From  my  balcony,"  she  went  on,  *'I  can  see 
directly  into  the  square,  full  of  mango  trees  and 
palms  like  feather  dusters.  Down  pn  one  side  is 
the  governor's  palace,  a  long  low  house;  some  day 
they  will  have  a  grand  new  one,  at  the  top  of  the 
same  street  where  the  theatre  stands,  when  they 
have  finished  pulling  it  down  and  building  it  up 
again.  On  the  left  I  can  look  across  the  corner  of 
the  square,  down  and  into  a  garden  with  a  high 
wall.  There  are  not  many  plants  in  the  gar- 
den because  nearly  all  the  space  is  full  of  little 
tables  and  chairs.  When  a  piano  isn't  being 
banged  there  is  a  squawking  gramophone  that 
shouts  songs  and  dance  tunes,  and  last  night  the 
place  was  crammed  with  people  who  kept  joining 
in  the  songs  and  getting  up  and  dancing  between 
the  tables.   They  kept  this  up  all  night  long  till 


BLACK  GOLD  151 

dawn  came,  and  although  I  slept  (you  know  when 
I  am  going  to  sleep,  I  do  sleep)  yet  in  between 
naps  I  heard  the  queerest  high-pitched  laugh  of 
a  woman.  Two  or  three  times  I  got  up  and  went 
to  look  into  the  garden,  all  hung  with  little  bright 
lamps,  but  couldn  ^t  make  out  who  laughed  in  that 
queer  way.  It  was  the  most  melancholy  sound  I 
ever  heard,  and  it  has  stuck  in  my  head  all  day 
long." 

She  hesitated  over  this;  again  tore  a  page  into 
scraps.  No,  that  did  not  belong  to  Sansoe. 

''The  first  morning  I  got  up  very  early  and 
went  for  a  walk,  up  a  street  where  long  lines  of 
ants  bustled  along  with  chips  of  green  on  their 
shoulders,  with  the  manner  of  people  who  had 
the  work  of  the  world  upon  them.  I  found  the 
cathedral,  too.  But  I  was  afraid  of  being  lost — 
alas!  I  wish  I  had  learnt  more  Portuguese  from 
dearest  Nair,  and  so  came  back,  to  find  Salvie 
standing  at  the  door,  almost  jumping  up  and 
down  with  rage.  How  could  I  worry  him  so !  And 
what  right  had  I  to  show  myself!  Please  stay  in- 
doors, he  begged,  he  entreated,  demanded,  with 
tears !  At  least  until  he  got  us  staged.  You  would 
think  we  were  Circassian  beauties  to  be  kept 
veiled.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  Francie  and  I 
and  Bianca  got  permission  from  our  tyrant  to  go 
to  hear  mass;  he  won't  let  any  of  the  chorus  out 
of  their  rooms.  He  and  Mr.  Laroche  spend  half 
their  time  sending  back  presents  from  kind  per- 
sons before  the  girls  see  them. 

''I  wonder  if  there  is  really  an  exciting  air 
about  this  place,  or  if  I  imagine  it  because  I  have 
heard  it  so  violently  discussed.  But  it  seems  as  if 
there  was  a  suspended,  breathless  atmosphere  of 
waiting  for  something  to  happen;  as  if  the  whole 


152  BLACK  GOLD 

place  were  fictitious  and  any  minute  a  puff  of 
wind  might  come  and  blow  Manaos  away.  You 
feel  as  if  it  can't  be  true,  and  you  try  to  look 
through  the  dazzle  to  find  out  what  is  real.  And 
the  people  seem  to  walk  about  as  if  they  knew  the 
place  was  just  here  for  a  minute,  and  that  they 
enjoyed  the  joke,  and  that  nobody  would  hold 
them  accountable  for  what  happened. 

**0f  course  this  is  absurd;  there  are  lots  of  nice, 
dear  people  with  real  homes  here  like  the  Freitas- 
Guimaraes-Cunha  families,  who  are  born  and  get 
married  and  bring  up  their  children  in  turn  like 
the  rest  of  the  world.  I  suppose  the  impression 
comes  from  the  floating  mass  of  foreigners,  all  of 
them  making  frantic  amounts  of  money  and  get- 
ting light-headed.  I  should  be  light-headed  too  if 
my  income  suddenly  jumped  from  a  few  pounds  a 
week  to  ten  thousand — indeed,  the  possession  of 
the  few  pounds  by  themselves  has  an  effect  upon 
me!  To-night  there  is  a  reception  at  a  wonderful 
house *' 

At  that  moment  the  lean  camareiro  showed  a 
smiling  face,  crowned  with  a  mop  of  black  curls, 
at  her  door:  it  was  time  for  almoco — would  not 
the  senhoras  descend?  He  had  already  called 
Madame  Antonelli  and  the  other  ladies — and  here 
they  were.  He  bowed  the  girls  downstairs  with 
the  air  of  a  proud  showman. 


i 


xm 

AT  eleven  o'clock  that  night  the  sisters  stood 
in  a  brightly  lighted  wide  room,  bedecked 
with  palms  and  flowers,  among  a  crowd  of  people. 
Francina,  radiant,  laughed  and  aired  her  passable 
French,  while  irreproachably  groomed  men 
bowed  over  her  little  hands.  Evaristo  da  Cunha, 
suave,  his  eyes  softened,  stood  beside  and  a  little 
behind  her,  not  moving  except  to  acknowledge 
with  his  agreeable  smile  the  homage  of  the  smaller 
politicians  and  the  careful  courtesies  of  the  for- 
eigners. Fair-headed  Englishmen  from  the  Harbor 
company  and  the  banks,  Americans  from  the  big 
rubber  company,  Germans,  French,  Portuguese, 
all  came  in  for  at  least  a  few  minutes.  Whenever 
small  groups  gathered  in  outer  rooms  and  corners, 
the  price  of  rubber  was  being  discussed. 

Margarita,  standing  by  her  sister,  her  eyes 
dreaming,  her  face  pale,  replied  a  little  absently 
to  pleasant  greetings  and  looked  from  time  to 
time  over  the  courteously  bent  backs  towards  the 
wide  entrance.  Watching  her,  you  might  have  de- 
cided that  some  fixed  idea  possessed  her,  that  she 
expected  someone,  and  that  her  smiles  and  gay  re- 
torts were  checked  in  a  curious  manner  whenever 
the  shadow  of  a  newcomer  touched  the  threshold 
of  that  bright  room.  And  when  her  eyes  suddenly 
lighted  at  the  sight  of  a  fair-haired,  slender  man, 
who  presently  came  in,  talking  earnestly  to 
Affonso  Guimaraes,  and  you  noticed  that  she  broke 

153 


154  BLACK  GOLD 

off  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  forgetting  what 
she  was  saying  and  remaining  inattentive  to  her 
interlocutor,  you  might  have  thought  her  an 
unmannerly  young  woman. 

When  Ware  looked  across  the  room,  the  little 
hypocrite  at  once  glanced  away,  bestowed  a  lovely 
view  of  her  long  eyelashes  upon  the  dark  gentle- 
man who  stood  nearest  at  her  side,  and  began  to 
talk  gaily.  And  when,  after  ten  minutes  or  so,  he 
came  to  her,  she  greeted  him  with  the  same  small 
coquetries  that  she  used  upon  the  group  about 
her. 

He  surveyed  her,  an  enchanting  vision  in  her 
transparent  rosy  frock,  with  her  air  of  a  wood 
nymph  subtly  transformed  into  that  of  a  dancing 
princess,  with  a  look  of  regret  and  almost  obvious 
jealousy.  She  retained  her  delicate  remoteness 
and  yet  there  was  a  real  if  vague  difference;  he 
said  to  himself  that  this  was  inevitable.  He  had 
seen  more  complete  changes,  and  he  must  be  re- 
signed to  this.  But  he  felt  the  rebellious  pang  of 
the  betrayed.  Little  comrade  of  the  moors,  are 
you  gone?  he  said  to  himself,  looking  into  her 
charming  face.  His  eyes  were  gray  granite,  his 
manner  ironical,  as  he,  too,  bowed  low  before  her. 

It  was  after  some  minutes  of  compliments,  of 
reproaches  from  Francina  for  his  neglect,  coun- 
tered by  his  cool:  **I  beg  that  you  will  pardon  a 
slave!  You  know  I  am  a  mere  clerk,  a  subordi- 
nate, when  I  am  not  a  seringueiro, ' '  that  Mar- 
garita said  to  him  suddenly,  finding  him  close  at 
her  side: 

**Do  you  know  that  I  have  something  of  yours? 
— the  tie  that  you  lent  me  when  I  went  riding.'' 

**Yes?  It  is  of  no  more  service  to  youT' 

**I  am  not  so  sure  of  that!''  she  laughed,  her 


I 


BLACK  GOLD  155 

manner  teasing.  ^'I  think  I  will  keep  it  to  make 
magic  with,  in  case  I  want  to  call  you  when  you 
disappear  again  into  your  cave  in  the  forest." 

He  fixed  serious  eyes  upon  her  that  suddenly 
l^ecame  blue,  and  spoke  in  an  intent  and  lowered 
voice:  *^ Would  you  have  to  make  magic  to  call 
mer' 

She  stared  at  him  without  a  reply.  He  went 
on  almost  under  his  breath: 

^^If  here,  at  any  time,  you  want  something  ,  .  . 
will  you  call  mef 

Abashed,  her  gay  smiles  gone,  she  waited  a 
second  or  two  and  then  answered  as  seriously  as 
he  had  spoken:  ^^Yes."  And  then,  as  Francina 
turned  to  them  with  some  laughing  comment, 
Margarita  recovered  from  her  momentary  sur- 
render to  his  gravity  and  asked  him:  **"Why  don't 
you  say  that  you'd  fly  from  the  ends  of  the  earth 
to  serve  me?  That's  the  correct  sort  of  thing,  in 
Manaos!  Englishmen  will  never  have  Latin  man- 
ners, alas!" 

He  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  said  briefly:  *'I 
have  to  return  to  the  seringal  in  a  few  hours. 
Permit  me  to  make  my  adieux. ' ' 

She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture,  urged  by  some 
imp.  '^You  really  don't  say  the  right  things,  or 
do  them,  either!"  She  held  out  her  slim  hand, 
looked  consideringly  at  her  fingers,  transparent 
against  the  light. 

*'You  don't  even  kiss  my  hand,  as  everybody 
else  does." 

Receiving  no  immediate  response,  the  imp  sent 
her  farther.  '^ Won't  you*?  Just  for  the  sake  of 
appearances,  here  ?  Come,  you  should  at  least  pre- 
tend to  be  decently  civil  to  me."  She  offered  her 
hand  provocatively. 


156  BLACK  GOLD 

The  young  man  took  this  hand,  raised  it,  looked 
at  it  with  attention,  almost  as  if  committing  its 
lines  to  memory,  and  then,  still  holding  it,  moved 
a  little  closer  to  her  and  said:  ** Margarita,  I  don't 
kiss  your  hand,  now  or  here.  When  I  do  kiss  you 
— ^when  I  do  kiss  you— I  shall  not  kiss  your  hands 
only,  and  not  in  sight  of  a  hundred  people. 
Don't — ever — say  a  thing  like  that  to  me  again.'* 

He  dropped  her  hand  and  was  gone.  With  the 
instinct  of  a  w^oman,  she  glanced  quickly  about 
to  see  if  anyone  had  observed  this  interlude.  No, 
apparently.  There  was  a  stir  at  the  door,  as  some 
notability  came  in;  all  heads  were  turned  in  that 
direction.  She  had  a  moment  to  recover  from  the 
feeling  that  Ware's  words  roused;  she  felt  her 
cheeks  bloodless,  her  body  trembling.  She  said 
to  herself  that  she  was  angry  with  him,  that 
he  was  abominably  impertinent,  that  he  would 
have  to  ask  many  times  before  she  forgave  him. 

But  as  she  began  to  dance,  a  moment  later,  with 
a  mustached  gentleman  who  looked  just  like  the 
portraits  of  King  Carlos,  she  heard  a  little  tune 
that  began  to  sing  itself  in  her  heart,  a  little  tune 
that  made  her  head  swim  and  brought  a  mist  of 
gold  before  her  eyes,  so  that  the  lighted  room  and 
faces  of  people  passed  like  shadows  before  her. 
It  was  when  she  returned  to  Francina's  side, 
where  this  matron  sat  in  a  rather  secluded  alcove 
with  the  head  of  Evaristo  very  near  her  own,  that 
she  first  experienced  a  feeling  of  awakening  from 
this  dream.  Francina,  displaying  traces  of  un- 
usual irritation  when  her  sister  approached  her, 
let  her  escort  take  his  leave  without  more  than  a 
word,  and  then  showed  a  malicious  face.  Eying 
her  sister,  frowning  slightly,  she  said  abruptly: 

'*So  your  dear  friend  Mr.  Ware  has  actually 


BLACK  GOLD  157 

been  able  to  tear  himself  away  from  his  enamo- 
rada  in  the  forest  for  a  few  hours!  You  must  feel 
flattered." 

Margarita  looked  at  her,  quite  uncomprehend- 
ing her  sister's  intention.  Francina,  more  impa- 
tiently, went  on:  *^I  think  you  ought  to  pay  less 
attention  to  Mr.  "Ware.  Whenever  he  is  any- 
where about,  you  let  him  monopolize  you  in  a 
dreadfully  conspicuous  manner.  It's  time  you 
were  sensible  about  things  like  that.  You  can  run 
about  in  England  with  men,  but  you  can't 
here " 

**Eun  about!"  murmured  Margarita,  surprised. 
She  knew  Francie's  hasty  temper,  but  could  not 
understand  this  new  irritation. 

*'Well,  I  am  warning  you.  You  had  better  look 
for  a  husband  who  isn't  a  planter  without  one 
penny  to  rub  against  another. ' ' 

Margarita  plucked  up  a  little  spirit.  **0  Fran- 
cie,  don't  be  vulgar.  How  could  you  say  such  a 
thing?" 

Francina  checked  herself,  closed  her  lips, 
seemed  to  think  for  a  moment,  and  followed  a 
different  lead.  **0f  course,  I  was  joking  .  .  .  but 
dear  child,  I  feel  very  responsible  for  you,  and  I 
don't  like  to  see  you  getting — even  a  little  bit — 
interested  in  a  man  whose  conduct — ^whose  ideas 
of  morality — ^whose " 

**What  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  demanded 
Margarita. 

Francina  dropped  her  voice.  '*  Dearest  child, 
don't  you  know,  don't  you  remember  that  half- 
Indian  girl  with  the  fair  baby  on  board  ship?  The 
girl  who  Vicente  is  said  to  be  married  to?  How 
obliging  of  Vicente !  Didn  't  you  notice  how  much 
John  Ware  was  interested  in  that  girl  and  that 


158  BLACK  GOLD 

blonde  child — as  fair  as  he  is!  You  didn't  think 
that  was  Vicente's  child,  did  youT' 

Margarita  stared  at  her,  her  heart  ice,  leaden. 
"I  don't  believe  it,"  she  managed  to  whisper,  but 
even  as  she  made  the  assertion  a  panorama  of 
quick  memories  passed  through  her  mind:  Ware 
on  board  ship,  going  down  to  the  lower  deck  every 
day  to  visit  Luisinha  and  the  babies,  his  open 
fondness  for  the  little  fair  child,  his  rather 
strange  withdrawal  from  her  own  society  since 
they  had  reached  Brazil.  She  felt  a  gust  of  shame 
and  anger. 

A  group  of  people  approached  the  alcove.  Evar- 
isto  da  Cunha,  his  enigmatical  eyes  half  shut  as 
he  looked  at  Francina,  his  arm  lightly  within 
Aif  onso  's ;  a  tall  young  man,  weedy,  with  a  melan- 
choly face,  came  with  them.  Margarita  was  com- 
pelled to  bend  her  stiffened  lips  into  smiles,  but 
as  she  danced  and  responded  to  gallantries  the 
tune  no  longer  sang  in  her  heart;  a  kind  of  stub- 
born argument  went  on,  against  her  will,  instead. 
Lonely  men  in  the  tropics!  said  one  voice;  what 
didn't  they  do!  And  another  declared,  obsti- 
nately: I  don't  believe  it,  while  the  first  again 
said:  Eubbish!  Why  shouldn't  it  be  true?  And 
in  response  she  only  heard:  What  does  it  matter? 
What  does  it  matter  to  me? 

Affonso  did  not  seem  to  notice  her  abstraction. 
She  replied  to  him  almost  at  random,  but  he  had 
the  face  of  an  enraptured  young  man  as  he  bent 
over  her.  Evaristo,  who  never  danced,  remained 
at  Francina 's  side,  and  she  presently  said  to  him 
coolly:  *'I  am  wondering  whether  it  would  be 
judicious  to  encourage  my  pretty  sister  to  marry 
your  cousin  Affonso." 

*<Why  not?"  He  bowed  with  a  sweet  smile,  his 


BLACK  GOLD  159 

smouldering  eyes  upon  her  fair  neck,  and  went  on 
quietly:  ** There  is  no  religious  difficulty,  and  they 
are  both  of  good  family.  If  you  need  a  diploma, 
madame,  I  will  answer  for  Affonso's  character." 

'^You  would  like  it?'' 

*' Assuredly.  Anything  that  would  help  to  bind 
you — to  us." 

**Ah,  you  are  simply  being  gallant,"  she  said, 
simply  and  directly.  *  *  Of  course,  at  the  same  time, 
I  do  not  know  that  our  own  family  would  consent. 
But  seriously,  I  wished  to  know  your  views  about 
these  two." 

^*  Seriously,  then,  you  need  have  no  doubt  about 
our  view,  or  of  Affonso's  future,"  he  answered 
her  in  kind.  **But  now,  tell  me!  Is  it  necessary 
for  you,  for  the  women  of  your  family,  to  have 
the  consent  of  their  parents — ^when  they  love?  Is 
it  a  Cornish  custom?" 

She  regarded  him  with  calm  eyes. 

**I  will  tell  you  what  is  our  custom.  To  hold 
our  heads  very  high.  As  high  as  your  eyes  can 
reach,  senhor." 

**My  eyes  can  see  as  far  as  the  topmost  heights 
of  love." 

**I  do  not  know  what  love  is,"  said  Francina, 
still  without  any  smile. 

**I  could  teach  you." 

*'I  do  not  know.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  wish  to 
know.  Do  you  think  that  you  are  not,  perhaps, 
thinking  of  passion  and  not  love?  Ah,  remem- 
ber that  I  am  not  a  child!  I  do  not  fear  passion! 
But  love !  That  is  what  makes  women  fools — that 
is  the  ruin  of  millions  of  us."  She  continued  to 
look  at  him  steadily. 

**It  would  be  worth  while  living,  to  have  you,  a 
woman  like  you,  foolish  about  me  for  an  hour," 


160  BLACK  GOLD 

said  Evaristo  in  a  very  low  voice,  not  meeting  her 
eyes.  She  began  to  laugh. 

**If  I  am,  if  I  ever  am  foolish,  for  an  hour,  it 
would  only  be  because  I  was  sure  that  you  were 
foolish  about  me  for — oh,  let's  say  a  year.  If  I 
ever  committed  an  indiscretion,  it  would  be  only 
because  you  risked  your  life  or  your  career  for 
me.  If  I  ever  gave  you  my  little  finger,  it  would 

be  because  you  gave  me ''  She  hesitated  for  a 

few  seconds.  **  Because  you  gave  me  your  whole 
body." 

This  seemed  to  startle  him  a  little.  He  spoke 
slowly  when  he  responded.  '*Are  you  offering — 
terms?  And  do  you  think  you  are  making  hard 
terms?'' 

She  laughed  again.  ** Terms!  Heaven  forbid! 
But,  you  know,  if  they  were,  you  need  not  take 
them." 

**You  would  not  have  told  them  to  me  unless 
you  knew  that  no  yoke  you  could  put  upon  me 
would  be  heavy,  no  terms  hard.  Or  if  you  did  not 
mean  to  keep  your  side  of  the  bargain,  and  to  give 
me  that  little  finger." 

She  did  not  answer,  looking  upon  him  with 
clear  eyes. 

He  rose  and  stood  smiling. 

**I  have  no  shame  in  monopolizing  you, 
madame,  but  it  may  make  the  evening  more  inter- 
esting in  your  memory  if  I  allow  my  enemies  an 
opportunity  of  paying  their  respects  to  you." 

**Your  enemies!  You  permit  them  to  breathe 
the  same  air?" 

**For  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  we  meet 
on  neutral  ground  here:  this  is  a  house  without 
politics.  In  the  second  place,  I  find  it  stimulating 
to  have  visual  proof  of  the  fact  that  they  are  still 


i 


BLACK  GOLD  161 

alive  and  active.  .  .  .  The  world  would  be  so  dull 
if  one  had  only  friends.'' 

**0h,  you  are  quite  right,  I  am  sure.  Only,  as  I 
have  never  had  any  friends  ..."  Francina  mur- 
mured. 

Across  the  room  a  stout,  serious-faced  man 
talked  with  an  attentive  group,  but  sent  a  fugitive 
glance  in  the  direction  of  the  sisters. 

^*You  know  already  some  of  my  bitterest 
opponents, ' '  said  Evaristo  with  calm.  "*  ^  That  citi- 
zen in  the  distance  is  Domingos  Souza  senior.  He 
has  a  great  deal  too  much  money  for  which  he  did 
not  work.  He  does  not  know  why,  because  he  is 
a  rubber  dealer,  his  wife  should  now  pay  two 
hundred  pounds  each  for  her  dresses  instead  of 
making  them  herself  out  of  muslin.  Women  take 
to  money  like,  as  you  say,  ducks  to  water.  .  .  . 
But  men!  What  difference  does  money  make  to 
them?  They  eat  red  beans  and  farinha  just  the 
same." 

**You  seem  to  sympathize  with  him." 

**I  like  him  personally.  There  are  good  reasons. 
The  best  of  them  is  that  he  writes  exquisite  son- 
nets. Beautiful.  Bilac  himself  has  said  that  they 
are  good.  But  unfortunately,  instead  of  sticking 
to  verse  he  wants  to  be  governor. ' ' 

''Why  should  he  not  be  governor?" 

*'Ah,  madame,  he  has  not  the  necessary  phy- 
sique. Too  flabby.  One  has  to  be  made  of  rubber 
or  of  wire  springs.  It  is  a  wearing  life.  He  is 
too  anxious.  He  worries  himself.  For  his  own 
sake,  I  couldn't  consent " 

Custodio  de  Freitas  came  up  to  them,  Leona 
upon  his  arm.  She  looked  like  a  figurine,  was  so 
much  smothered  in  powder  that  her  golden  skin 
could  not  be  seen,  and  kept  her  heavy-lidded  eyes 


162  BLACK  GOLD 

almost  shut.  Custodio,  very  small  and  thin  and 
yellow  in  his  evening  clothes,  saluted  the  sisters 
with  smiles  that  livened  all  his  wrinkles. 

**Is  it  an  indiscretion  to  ask  madame  where  her 
charming  husband  is?"  he  murmured  to  Fran- 
cina.  *^  There  is  a  little  matter  of  business  the 
committee  would  like  to  settle  with  him,  a  debt 
we  owe.  How  happy  we  are  that  you  came!  You 
have  made  such  a  brilliant  success,  the  city  is  so 
enchanted,  so  utterly  at  your  feet " 

Francina  tried  to  appear  as  if  she  were  covered 
with  blushes.  **You  are  all  too  kind.  We  are 
enjoying  every  minute  of  our  stay  here,  all  too 
short.  As  to  my  poor  husband,  he  has  a  touch 
of  fever,  and  must  stay  in  bed.  I  ought  to  be  at 
home,  a  dutiful  wife,  putting  wet  towels  on  his 
head." 

Custodio  was  deeply  concerned.  *^But  you  must 
permit  me  to  visit  the  senhor.  And  my  cousin, 
the  best  doctor  in  the  state,  will  see  him " 

Evaristo  also  intervened.  **  Malaria  is  not  a 
thing  to  be  neglected.  The  remedies  are  simple, 
but  it  is  imperative  that  they  should  be  consist- 
ently taken." 

**0h,  but  he  isn't  really  ill,"  Francina  pro- 
tested. **He's  very  cross,  poor  soul,  because  his 
voice  has  failed  him.  We  didn't  want  him  to  come 
to  the  theatre  this  morning  for  rehearsals,  and  he 
quarrelled  with  everybody  just  because  he  has 
a  temperature." 

''Fever  has  curious  effects " 

* 'If  he  is  not  able  to  go  to  the  theatre  to-mor- 
row, I  am  afraid  that  after  'Boheme'  and  perhaps 
^Pagliacci'  or  'Rigoletto'  we  shall  have  to  put  off 
any  more  performances  for  a  few  days,"  she  went 
on  seriously. 


BLACK  GOLD  163 

*'A  very  good  idea,  madame,  altliongh  we  may 
regret  the  cause.  But  anything  that  will  prolong 
your  stay  here " 

'*  Someone,  you  see,  has  to  go  down  to  Para  to 
meet  the  Italian  boat.  She  is  due  next  Wednes- 
day. And  if  Mr.  Laroche  has  to  go  and  Salvatore 
is  ill " 

Custodio  and  Evaristo  united  in  protests  at  her 
distress,  as  she  raised  troubled  eyes  to  them.  She 
must  not  alarm  herself,  she  must  not  be  worried; 
whatever  happened,  Manaqs  would  be  well  satis- 
fied. She  had  not  forgotten  that  on  Sunday  a 
water  picnic  had  been  arranged,  up  the  Negro  to 
the  islands  where  orchids  grew?  Custodio  prom- 
ised himself  the  pleasure  of  showing  the  visitors 
rubber  trees  in  a  real  seringal.  It  would  not  be 
necessary  to  postpone  the  trip? 

**0h,  no!  Margarita  adores  picnics,  and  even 
if  I  could  not  go  this  time,  Bianca  and  Beatriz 
would  be  delighted.^'  She  glanced  about  the  room 
as  she  spoke,  saw  Bianca  dancing  sedately,  and 
beside  a  screen  caught  sight  of  the  marcelled  head 
of  the  Sforzi,  attentively  turned  towards  a  short 
and  swarthy  man  who  seemed  to  be  breathing 
into  her  neck. 

Leona,  in  spite  of  her  haK-shut  eyes,  noted  the 
look,  and  began  to  speak  in  her  languid  French. 
She  never  spoke  Portuguese  in  public. 

**I  should  warn  you  of  my  Uncle  Custodio.  He 
will  make  you  walk  for  miles  in  a  dark  and 
steamy  forest.  And  what  is  worse,  he  will  tell  you 
all  about  the  industry  of  rubber.'' 

Everyone  laughed,  Custodio 's  eyes  disappear- 
ing among  his  wrinkles,  and  someone  reminded 
Leona  that  she  was  to  be  one  of  the  victims  her- 
self.  She  flickered  her  eyelashes  towards  a  dark 


164  BLACK  GOLD 

and  slim  young  man  who  hovered  on  the  edge  of 
the  group,  and  murmured,  *^But  I  shall  not  listen. 
I  have  such  a  cleverness  at  not  hearing  things/' 
She  moved  a  step  nearer  to  Francina  and  mur- 
mured in  a  lower  voice,  '*I  did  not,  for  example, 
hear  just  now  what  is  being  said  to  your  prima 
donna  by  that  strange  individual  with  all  the 
diamonds  on  his  hands." 

Francina  glanced  quickly  towards  the  flowery 
screen,  and  bit  an  angry  lip  as  she  took  in  the 
flushed  exuberance  of  the  Sforzi's  admirer  and 
the  giggling  delight  of  the  lady.  **I  could  beat 
her  to  death  joyfully,"  she  said.  **She  has  not 
moved  a  step  without  that  kind  gentleman  at  her 
side  for  two  days." 

She  reflected,  speaking  in  an  undertone.  **I  am 
terrified  to  speak  to  her,  or'I  would  invite  her  to 
join  us.  .  .  .  She  was  in  a  frightful  fury  this  morn- 
ing. She  sang  abominably  and  Salvie  was  cross 
too  and  he  scolded  her.  He  said  she  was  a  quarter 
tone  sharp  all  through  one  aria,  and  Laroche  was 
just  remarking  that  that  wasn't  possible  because 
she  was  a  half  tone  flat  on  all  her  high  notes,  and 
at  that  moment  the  orchestra  stopped  suddenly, 
and  the  Sforzi  heard  him  and  wouldn't  open  her 
mouth  again." 

As  she  spoke,  Beatriz  Sforzi  stood  up,  flitting 
an  enormous  fan,  and,  followed  by  the  dark  citi- 
zen with  the  diamonds,  went  from  the  room  in  a 
cloud  of  floating  chiffon. 

She  never  came  back.  Next  morning  a  telegram 
pushed  under  Salvatore's  door  announced  the 
first  defection  from  the  opera  company. 


i 


XIV 

SALVATORE  did  not  join  the  water  picnic. 
The  touch  of  fever  that  had  troubled  him  on 
the  day  after  the  first  performance  recurred  forc- 
ibly, and  Francina  elected  to  stay  with  him.  **I 
hate  getting  up  early,  and  I  object  to  knowing 
anything  more  about  the  rubber  industry,''  she 
hastened  to  explain,  when  Aifonso  complimented 
her  devotion.  From  the  trip  Evaristo  also  de- 
fected at  the  last  moment,  and  Affonso  brought 
his  handsome  secretary,  Domingos  Souza  junior, 
to  make  the  third  man.  **A  charming  fellow,  quite 
without  intelligence,''  Affonso  said  of  him  airily. 
**I  like  to  attach  him  to  me  because  he  is  of  the 
opposite  political  camp.  It's  rather  rash  of  him 
to  trust  himself  to  my  hands.  It  might  be  rash 
of  me,  no  doubt,  too,  but  the  dear  fellow  is  too 
beautifully  stupid.  .  .  .  You  will  notice  he  carries 
a  little  pocket  mirror,  like  all  the  young  men  of 
our  best  families.  When  you  see  him  staring  pas- 
sionately into  it  sixty  times  a  day,  you  don't  won- 
der that  I  trust  him  with  the  keys  of  my  desk." 
They  started  in  the  half  light  of  dawn,  AfPonso's 
carriage  taking  the  three  girls  down  to  the  water 
landing  where  the  Guimaraes'  big  motor  boat  was 
moored;  they  were  on  their  way  before  the  mist 
was  off  the  surface  of  the  water.  Running  rapidly 
into  the  Negro  from  the  igarape,  the  boat  cut 
through  the  almost  currentless  black  water  with- 
out encountering  any  noticeable  resistance,  mak- 
ing for  the  islands  lying  some  fifty  miles  above 
Manaos.   They  made  about  fifteen  knots,  running 

165 


166  BLACK  GOLD 

beside  the  left  bank,  close  enough  to  catch  the 
breath  of  sweet  flowers  hanging  from  the  high 
tree  tops,  blown  in  the  soft  gusts  of  fresh  morn- 
ing. As  the  sun  rose,  immediately  turning  the 
chill  air  to  glowing,  saturating  warmth,  birds  be- 
gan to  call  from  the  thickets,  and  couples  of 
scarlet  tanagers  played  in  the  tangles  of  creepers. 
The  trupial  called  again  and  again,  a  clear,  ring- 
ing, intimate  call  from  the  close  leaves. 

The  black  river  narrowed,  then  widened  again, 
the  dense  forest  marching  along  its  margins,  and, 
in  that  unusually  dry  season,  showing  the  great 
buttressed  roots  and  a  strip  of  soil  or  sand  be- 
neath them.  Soon  after  ten  o'clock  the  motor 
boat  began  to  pass  the  wooded  sides  of  green 
islands  that  lay  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  with 
white  sandy  shores  shelving  to  the  water.  Here 
the  vegetation  was  more  varied,  lighter  in  color 
than  in  the  dense,  close  forest  with  its  great  trees 
covered  with  small  dark  leaves;  here  were  bushes 
and  assahy  palms,  more  undergrowth  and  flowers. 
Scores  of  pretty  parasites  perched  in  every  notch 
of  the  branches;  bunches  and  clusters  of  orchids 
dripped  long  trails  of  yellow  flame.  Little  slim- 
stemmed  trees  with  shivering  silver-backed 
leaves  bent  over  the  river. 

They  stopped  for  breakfast  at  a  beautiful  clean 
white  beach,  a  first-class  place  for  turtles'  eggs, 
Custodio  declared.  They  lighted  a  fire  quickly, 
made  coffee,  and  ate  an  enormous  breakfast.  All 
sorts  of  food  came  out  of  the  capacious  baskets 
of  the  Guimaraes.  Margarita  declared  herself 
still  sleepy  and  was  actually  rather  pale  and 
silent;  Bianca,  cheerful  as  ever,  drank  cham- 
pagne and  flirted  with  the  much-flattered  Custo- 
dio; Leona  Guimaraes,  deliciously  painted,  with 


BLACK  GOLD  167 

her  air  of  a  bisque  china  doll,  did  not  stir  from 
the  imperturbable,  dignified  calm  with  which  she 
permitted  the  open  adoration  of  young  Domingos 
Souza.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the  meal,  when 
Affonso  leaned  over  Margarita  to  pour  fresh 
scented  black  coffee  into  her  cup  that  he  remarked 
in  a  low  voice  but  quite  casually:  *^It  is  in  Evar- 
isto's  seringal,  you  remember,  that  your  friend  Mn 
Ware  has  a  share  ...  his  section  is  not  far  from 
here.  Perhaps  we  shall  see  him.'' 

Startled,  and  becoming  paler  than  before,  she 
said  quickly:  '*0h,  no!''  and  then  as  he  raised 
interrogative  eyebrows  she  went  on:  *'I  mean,  he 
doesn't  expect  us.  Perhaps  he  won't  be  there." 

**No,  he  does  not  expect  us.  Not  at  all.  But 
I  daresay  he  can  stand  the  shock,"  said  Affonso 
calmly.  '*The  fact  is,  I  have  a  message  for  him, 
and  perhaps  I  may  have  to  ask  you  to  let  me 
leave  you  for  a  few  minutes  while  I  go  to  find 
him."  She  did  not  reply,  and  Affonso  added  after 
a  pause:  '^He  is  really  a  rubber  enthusiast.  He 
spends  so  much  time  here  now — he  must  be  at- 
tracted to  this  spot.  And  no  doubt  he  is  getting 
the  seringal  into  excellent  order.  It  was  not  very 
good  a  few  years  ago — too  near  the  city.  Over- 
tapped." 

He  helped  the  girl  to  her  feet,  as  the  boat's 
engines  began  to  throb. 

They  left  one  of  the  servants  behind  to  wash 
the  dishes  and  re-pack,  and  Affonso  took  the 
wheel.  The  sun  beat  down  with  immense  power, 
and  not  even  the  swift  motion  of  the  boat  could 
counteract  that  pitiless  blaze;  it  was  a  marked 
relief  when  they  left  the  open  river  and  cut  be- 
tween a  couple  of  islands  whose  overhanging 
woods  threw  green  shade  over  the  channel. 


168  BLACK  GOLD 

'*The  seringal  lies  on  the  other  side,"  Affonso 
explained,  and  Margarita  asked  him  how  he  knew 
the  way.  There  were  so  many  islands  and  water- 
paths. 

He  smiled.  ''I  am  not  quite  so  clever  as  I 
should  like  you  to  think  me.  Any  of  these  chan- 
nels will  take  us  to  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  when  I  come  out  from  the  islands  I  look  out 
for  a  curious  clump  of  trees  growing  on  a  rocky 
spit — ^here  we  are.  Look  north,  senhora.  Do  you 
see  it?  No?  We  must  run  a  little  farther  up." 

When,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  reported  sight- 
ing the  jutting  rock  with  its  cluster  of  straight 
trees,  he  was  pleased.  **What  did  I  tell  you? 
Now,  there  is  a  little  water  path,  a  tiny  igarape, 
running  into  the  forest  exactly  opposite,  and  we 
can  cross  directly  to  it." 

The  opening  was  invisible  a  few  yards  away, 
closely  hung  with  verdure  and  guarded  by  enor- 
mous buttressed  trees;  the  motor  boat  crawled  in, 
with  only  a  few  inches  to  spare  on  either  side, 
and  was  at  once  almost  in  darkness  under  the 
matted  foliage.  When  they  had  run  about  half 
a  mile  along  this  channel  Affonso  shut  off  the  en- 
gine; where  the  boat  came  to  a  stop  there  lay  on 
the  left  a  tiny  clearing  visible  through  a  screen 
of  slender  shrubs,  a  grass-thatched  hut  standing 
in  the  sun  at  the  top  of  a  little  path. 

**Here  we  are!  Let  us  make  a  call  upon  our 
friend,"  Affonso  said  quietly.  '*I  will  go  and  find 
out  if  there  is  anyone  at  home."  Jumping  from 
the  boat,  he  ran  to  the  hut,  pushed  open  the  door, 
and  looked  keenly  at  the  few  objects  it  contained 
— a  hammock  slung  from  corner  to  corner,  a 
chair,  a  shelf  of  tins  and  boxes  and  a  book  or  two, 
a  bundle  suspended  from  the  rafters  out  of  the 


BLACK  GOLD  169 

way  of  ants.  Margarita,  impelled  by  a  curious 
feeling  that  led  her  to  interpose,  as  if  she  was 
obliged  to  take  care  of  the  lares  and  penates  of  the 
absent  Ware  (not  that  she  cared  anything  about 
that  person!)  got  up  and  stepped  ashore.  Nobody 
else  stirred,  although  Bianca  cried  out  that  this 
was  a  most  romantic  spot — *'full  of  flies  and  ants 
and  garrapatos, ' '  said  the  placid  Leona. 

Affonso,  shaking  his  finger  in  signal  that  no  one 
was  at  home,  came  out,  shut  the  swinging  bark 
door,  and  then,  instead  of  returning  to  the  boat, 
began  to  peer  about  the  edges  of  the  clearing; 
when  he  found  a  trampled  trail  that  led  into  the 
forest  behind  the  hut  he  went  a  step  or  two  along 
it,  made  sure  that  it  continued,  and  then  came 
back  to  the  motor  boat,  saying  in  a  decisive  voice: 
**I  think  that  Mr.  Ware  is  probably  in  the  little 
seringal  on  this  side  of  the  igarape.  Will  you 
kindly  wait  for  me — ^just  a  few  minutes?  I  will 
have  a  look  and  return  very  soon." 

He  was  visibly  disconcerted  when  Margarita, 
her  curious  impression  crystallizing,  came  for- 
ward declaring:  **I  shall  come  with  you.'' 

*^0h,  no!  It's  too  hot,  and  there's  no  path:  and 
nothing  to  see.  The  good  seringal  is  on  the  other 
side  of  the  creek.  We  can  go  there  later — ^you 
must  not  become  tired  with  the  heat,''  he  pro- 
tested. Vainly,  for  she  took  no  notice  and  fol- 
lowed him  along  the  winding  trail  that  was  only 
to  be  discovered  by  watching  the  bruised  verdure 
underfoot;  it  was  screened  with  thorny  bushes 
and  overhung  with  long  vines  that  Affonso  held 
back  for  her  passage. 

When  they  had  walked  for  four  or  five  minutes, 
making  their  way  in  silence  through  the  matted 
bushes,  negotiating  the  boles  of  great  trees  whose 


170  BLACK  GOLD 

roots  rose  like  walls  three  or  four  feet  high,  they 
parted  a  curtain  of  lianes  to  find  themselves  on 
the  edge  of  the  second  clearing.  A  long  hut,  double 
the  size  of  that  on  the  edge  of  the  igarape,  stood 
here,  and  the  smoke  that  poured  through  the 
opening  showed  that  it  was  or  had  been  occupied. 

** Perhaps  he  is  there,"  murmured  Affonso,  and 
his  watchful  manner  again  struck  Margarita  as 
strange.  She  walked  forward  and  spoke  out  loud: 
**Why  should  he  be  here?  Surely  he  hasn't  got 
two  huts  to  live  in?" 

As  she  spoke  the  half-open  door  moved  quickly, 
and  Ware,  probably  hearing  her  voice,  appeared. 
With  a  smothered  exclamation  he  came  out  and 
deftly  fastened  the  door  behind  him.  His  manner 
was  composed  as  always,  but  his  pale  face  was 
covered  with  perspiration;  his  cotton  shirt  was 
open  at  the  neck,  his  sleeves  rolled  up.  He  mopped 
his  forehead  with  a  handkerchief  as  he  came 
towards  his  visitors,  looking  at  them  without  a 
smile.  The  thought  occurred  to  Margarita  that 
the  eyes  she  had  imagined  to  be  blue  were  really 
as  light  and  hard  and  gray  as  granite.  His  manner 
was  not  that  of  a  pleased  and  agreeable  host. 
Margarita  spoke  first.  ^'We  have  come  to  sed 
your  rubber  trees,  Mr.  Ware.  .  .  .  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Ware." 

He  bowed  gravely  to  her,  and  looked  at  Gui- 
maraes  narrowly.  '*Good  morning.  I  am  sorry, 
but  you  are  in  the  wrong  direction.  .  .  .  There's 
really  no  rubber  to  be  seen  here;  the  seringal  is 
quite  a  little  farther  upstream  ...  as  I  need  not 
tell  you."  He  still  looked  at  Affonso  Guimaraes, 
Then  in  a  brief,  businesslike  tone:  ''Where's 
your  boat?  Let  me  put  you  on  the  right  track.'' 

**The  boat  is  lying  up  the  igarape  just  in  front 


BLACK  GOLD  171 

of  your — ^your  first  palacete,"  smiled  Affonso. 
**  You  must  be  a  very  wealthy  man,  with  two  coun- 
try homes.  Will  you  not  ask  us  in?" 

**You  must  pardon  me  if  I  don't,"  returned 
Ware  coolly.  *^The  ...  as  you  see,  there's  a  fire, 
and  it's  going  rather  badly.  You  must  really  ex- 
cuse me.  ...  I  don't  quite  understand  why  you 
came  up  the  igarape  to  get  to  the  seringal.  It 
would  have  been  much  easier  to  go  farther  up- 
stream, and  land  by  the  big  barracao:  the  collect- 
ing house  and  central  store,"  he  explained  to 
Margarita,  suddenly  becoming  a  little  polite,  but 
at  the  same  time  moving  away  from  the  second 
house,  and  almost  pushing  his  visitors  down  the 
path.  What  was  the  matter  with  him?  For  that 
matter,  what  was  the  matter  with  Affonso?  She 
said  to  herself  as  she  walked  down  the  path  in 
front  of  Ware,  that  they  both  behaved  as  if  there 
was  something  they  didn't  speak  of,  as  if  they 
were  thinking  all  the  time  of  something  else. 

Suddenly  an  idea  came  into  her  mind,  the 
remembrance  of  the  abyss  that  had  seemed  to  open 
tinder  her  happy  feet  a  few  nights  before,  the 
abyss  that  the  words  of  Francina  had  pointed  out, 
and  that  she  had  tried  to  forget.  It  was  not  truel 
She  didn't  care — what  did  it  matter  to  her?  But 
it  wasn't  true!  Pricked  suddenly  into  speech,  she 
turned  and  said  to  Ware  in  a  low,  trembling  voice, 
ashamed,  but  unable  to  check  herself:  ^'Tell  me, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me:  that  second  house,  there, 
is  that — is  it — is  that  Vicente's  house?" 

He  heard  her  with  astonishment  in  the  middle 
of  his  own  annoyed  distraction,  and  answered  her 
as  if  he  was  satisfying  the  idle  curiosity  of  a 
child:  ''Oh,  that?  Vicente's?  Yes,  yes.  Yes, 
that's  Vicente's  house." 


172  BLACK  GOLD 

She  moved  on  again  without  a  word  more,  her 
face  burning.  She  pulled  her  big  soft  straw  hat 
down  in  front  of  her  eyes,  and  suddenly  felt  two 
tears  running  over  her  cheeks.  She  was  furious, 
insulted,  shaking  with  shame.  She  had  actually 
asked  him,  and  he  had  dared  to  tell  her.  .  .  .  She 
stooped  to  pick  a  tiny  ball  of  mauve  fluff,  flower  of 
the  sensitive  creeping  mimosa,  hastily  brushed 
away  the  idiotic  tears,  and  began  to  laugh  gaily 
as  Affonso,  recovering  his  insouciance,  told  Ware 
of  the  gossip  of  the  city,  all  the  political  news  and 
rumors.  The  election  was  to  be  held  in  ten  days, 
he  remarked,  and  everybody  was  watching  his 
neighbor.  **0f  course  our  party  is  going  to  win 
again;  our  people  are  all  still  hungry.  And  Evar- 
isto  is  such  an  excellent  chief.  It's  so  clever  of 
him  not  to  be  governor  himself.'' 

**The  Souzas  are  all  hungry  too,"  Ware 
reminded  him. 

*'Yes,  but  they  are  not  nearly  so  clever,  men 
caro."  He  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  the  opera 
company,  'Hhe  delight  and  pride  of  Manaos," 
complimenting  the  sisters  with  grace.  Ware,  too, 
as  they  approached  the  igarape,  lost  a  little  of  his 
abstracted  coolness,  although  he  made  no  effort 
to  capture  the  attention  of  Margarita  and  still 
seem  preoccupied. 

The  other  girls  called  to  him  from  the  boat  and 
they  exchanged  pleasant  greetings;  but  he 
refused  to  accompany  them.  They  must  please 
excuse  him :  if  he  had  known  sooner  that  he  was  to 
be  honored  in  this  manner  he  would  have  been 
happy  .  .  .  but  he  had  a  lot  of  work  to  do  in  an- 
other part  of  the  seringal.  He  summoned  Vicente 
with  a  peculiar  clear  and  shrill  whistle  and  when 
the  caboclo  appeared  running  from  the  other  side 


BLACK  GOLD  173 

of  the  water,  a  machado  in  his  hand  and  a  rifle 
over  his  shoulder,  he  told  him  to  show  the  sen- 
hores  the  best  path  for  seeing  fine  specimens  of 
rubber  trees,  and  to  take  them  to  see  the  nearest 
smoking  huts. 

He  waved  a  cheerful  good-by  from  the  creek's 
edge,  almost  openly  relieved  to  see  them  go. 
Vicente  in  the  part  of  showman  directed  the  boat 's 
course  back  to  the  Negro,  upstream  half  a  mile, 
and  superintended  the  landing  at  a  point  where 
a  little  pier  ran  out  in  front  of  a  wide  clearing. 
Here  stood  the  temporary  storing  houses  of  the 
rubber,  the  family  dwelling  of  the  overseer  of  the 
seringal,  and  the  little  shop  that  sold  a  box  of 
matches,  a  kilo  of  flour,  or  a  gallon  of  paraffin  at 
the  highest  price  on  earth. 

Vicente  introduced  the  party  with  great  pride, 
and  led  the  way  through  the  forest.  Domingos 
followed  with  Bianca  at  a  whisper  from  Affonso 
Guimaraes,  who,  for  once  seeming  ready  to  leave 
Margarita's  side,  quietly  signed  to  his  cousin 
Leona.  She  dropped  behind  with  him  at  once, 
allowing  Custodio  to  take  his  place  beside. 

Custodio,  beaming  upon  the  pale  girl,  intro- 
duced the  forest  with  a  generous  hand.  **Here 
is  the  great  unconquerable,  at  the  senhora  's  pleas- 
ure. Look  at  the  high  pillars  and  green  roof!  The 
forest  always  appears  to  me  as  a  dim  cathedral, 
the  only  one  that  our  native  Brazilians  possess. 
The  sole  temple  of  the  Tupis!"  She  smiled  upon 
him  without  listening,  rapidly  making  up  in  her 
mind  a  dozen  really  spiteful,  barbed  things  that 
she  might  say  to  John  Ware  ...  no,  she  would 
never  speak  to  the  man  again.  Custodio  was  pro- 
ceeding, delighted  to  have  an  audience  for  the 
reception  of  his  theories: 


174  BLACK  GOLD 

**It  may  not  seem  strange  to  you,  so  young  and 
beautiful,  and  do  not  think  of  these  things,  that 
our  Indians  have  never  built  any  temples  to  their 
gods.  But  I,  an  old  man,  think  of  it  whenever  I 
enter  the  forest/' 

(Oh,  if  one  grew  very  old,  things  wouldn't 
hurt  so  much — ^what  shall  I  think  about  when  I 
am  as  old  as  you,  Custodio  de  Freitas?) 

**I  believe  very  positively  that  the  reason  why 
our  Indians  never  built  temples,  never  had  any 
acute  idea  of  God  himself,  is  because  the  forest 
dominates  everything,  divides  them  from  every- 
thing else  and  from  each  other.  It  is  the  reason 
why  they  have  never,  here,  been  united  under 
any  one  great  king.  The  tribes  are  all  dispersed 
and  isolated  by  the  forest,  smothered  in  it;  no 
single  ruler  could  ever  make  his  power  felt  over 
a  great  area  . . .  and  people  who  have  no  powerful 
ruler  never  create  enormous  monuments.  Those 
have  always  been  erected  by  magnificent  tyrants, 
inspired  by  their  own  fear  of  God's  judgment 
upon  their  own  sins,  or  to  please  their  human 
vanity.  The  stone  temples  of  the  Incas,  there 
just  across  the  Andes,  could  only  have  been  built 
under  a  tyranny.  And  here  nothing  tyrannizes 
but  the  forest.  **Meu  Deus!  be  careful!  There's 
a  band  of  marauding  ants!  Don't  step  near  them! 
They  bite  worse  than  a  serpent."  He  pulled  the 
girl  out  of  the  way,  hurried  her  almost  to  a  run, 
much  agitated. 

The  path  they  followed  was  a  well-trodden 
trail,  cleared  of  bush  at  the  beginning  of  the  rub- 
ber-collecting season  by  the  expert  matteiro,  the 
woodsman  whose  business  it  is  to  locate  rubber 
trees  in  a  new  forest  area  and  to  open  the  way 
from  tree  to  tree  ready  for  the  rubber  collector. 


BLACK  GOLD  175 

There  was  only  a  dim  light,  the  sun  filtering 
feebly  through  the  tree  tops  clustered  far  above, 
often  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  above  the  ground. 
A  damp,  pungent  breath,  charged  with  the  es- 
sences of  rotting  leaves,  of  flowers,  of  powerful 
drugs  oozing  from  bark  and  roots,  rose  from  the 
damp  black  soil.  Great  leaves,  many  of  them  cut 
out  in  fantastic  patterns  as  if  by  some  indefati- 
gable dryad  with  a  pair  of  stout  scissors,  let  rays 
of  sunlight  filter  through  their  little  windows; 
furry  brown  ropes  hung  twisted  from  enormous 
heights.  Here  was  the  immense,  warring  life  of 
plants  and  trees:  but  not  a  bird  called  nor  was 
there  a  sign  of  any  animal  inhabitants.  For  them 
the  forest  was  too  deep  and  dark:  only  beside  the 
water  or  along  wide  pathways  where  bright 
sunlight  penetrated  could  such  life  survive  the 
pressure  of  the  forest. 

Vicente,  waiting  ahead,  displayed  a  big  ser- 
inga. Its  millions  of  three-fingered  leaves  spread, 
motionless  in  the  hot,  still  air,  above  its  great 
trunk,  covered  with  the  deep  scars  made  by  years 
of  tapping.  It  seemed  to  Margarita,  looking  with 
respect  upon  this  dignified  tree,  that  it  must  be 
deeply  injured  by  these  numberless  wounds.  The 
little  tin  cups  used  to  catch  the  precious  latex 
during  the  morning's  bleeding  had  already  been 
emptied,  and  were  standing  upside  down  on  bits 
of  stick  at  the  tree's  foot  like  groups  of  some 
queer  fungus.  The  girl  refused  to  take  the  sharp 
little  axe,  but  Custodio  insisted  on  showing  her 
how,  gashed  lightly,  the  tree  yielded  the  white 
milk,  sweet  to  the  taste. 

*'Your  heart  is  too  tender,  mademoiselle!"  he 
told  her.  **Our  seringas  take  a  lot  of  killing. 
Believe  me,  that  tree  will  stand  to  see  your  great- 


176  BLACK  GOLD 

grandchildren/'  They  walked  on  slowly,  Custo- 
dio  reverting  to  his  ideas  about  the  native  tribes, 
for  whom  all  South  Americans,  at  least  theoreti- 
cally, have  no  affection. 

**It  is  easy  to  understand  here,  I  think,  that  it 
is  all  our  Indians  can  do  to  live  from  day  to  day. 
The  forest  is  nearer  than  God;  it  takes  the  place 
of  deities,  it  is  unanswerable,  there  is  no  appeal 
from  it.  AH  that  is  possible  is  accommodation  to 
it  as  best  may  be.  The  forest  is  the  one  great  ex- 
ternal power.  It  shuts  out  the  rest  of  the  earth 
and  all  heaven." 

** People  can't  think  of  God  unless  they  see  the 
sky?"  She  thought  as  she  spoke  of  stones  set  in 
wide  open  spaces  upon  distant  moors,  free  to  the 
sky  and  wind. 

**  Precisely  I  Here  they  never  see  tlie  sky,  and 
so  they  haven't  even  the  simple  fears  of  most 
primitive  folk,  the  fears  of  lightning  and  thunder. 
No  storm  penetrates  the  deep  heart  of  the  forest 
.  .  .  look  up,  dear  child!  Up  there  the  tops  might 
be  shaken  and  beaten  with  rain  and  wind,  and 
down  here  in  the  calm  and  dusk  not  a  drop  or  a 
gust  would  touch  your  little  head.  No  tempestu- 
ous, capricious  god  is  here  to  be  propitiated  by 
prayer  and  gifts;  and  there  is  no  heaven  to  attain. 
. . .  Nothing  but  the  forest  all  about,  hostile,  press- 
ing upon  them,  a  little  toned  down  by  daily  con- 
tact, but  never  friendly  or  even  indifferent.  .  .  . 
Look,  here's  another  rubber  tree,  not  quite  so 
badly  scarred.  "We  must  have  passed  thirty  other 
sorts  of  trees  since  we  saw  the  first  one." 

**If  your  Indians  were  afraid  of  the  forest  they 
wouldn't  stay  in  it,"  she  objected. 

'* Where  could  they  go  except  to  other  forests? 
They  were  born  in  it,  it  is  all  their  world,  present 


J 


BLACK  GOLD  177 

and  future.  .  .  .  They  are  afraid  of  it;  in  many 
tribes  there  is  such  a  custom  of  fear  that  no  man 
ever  enters  it  alone.  They  seem  to  be  always  con- 
scious that  its  life  is  as  active  as  theirs,  as  urgent 
and  determined,  and  very  much  stronger.  The 
river  is  much  more  a  friendly  thing  than  the  for- 
est; it  is  strong  too,  but  it  does  not  harbor  so 
many  vicious  attackers,  and  it  does  not  press 
upon  them  like  the  forest.'' 

**It  doesn't  press  on  me.  I  love  it.  It's  so  high, 
and  beautiful." 

**A  deceitful  beauty!  It  enchants  its  lovers, 
but  always  devours  them  in  the  end  if  they  do  not 
run  away.  Foreigners  always  love  it,  and  they 
who  know  it  least  are  least  afraid.  .  .  .  Perhaps 
only  the  man  who  is  independent  of  it,  whose 
springs  of  life  and  faith  rose  somewhere  else,  can 
afford  to  take  pleasure  in  it.  Or  to  set  up  their 
gods  near  it!  Para  and  Manaos,  at  least,  have 
their  temples  on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  built  by 
foreign  hands  that  don't  understand  the  forest. 
Temples  to  pray  in!" 

**For  their  womenfolk  to  pray  in,  you  mean!" 
she  laughed  at  him. 

**Yes."  He  considered  this.  **Yes.  Because 
civilized  men  always  think  the  prayers  of  women 
more  efficacious  than  their  own  .  .  .  while  the 
primitive  people  never  let  women  come  anywhere 
near  their  gods.  I  think  they  were  right  and  the 
moderns  wrong,  too.  All  the  liturgical  incanta- 
tions invented  by  men,  all  the  discipline  and  laws 
— women  are  really  quite  outside  them.  Woman 
is  the  really  free  creature  who  keeps  the  world 
from  being  altogether  trammelled." 

''But  it  is  the  women  who  go  to  church,"  she 
insisted. 


178  BLACK  GOLD 

'^Only  because  the  men  want  them  to,  I  am 
sure.  Or  else  because  they  are  unhappy  and  think 
then  that  perhaps  there  may  be  something  effi- 
cacious. ...  No  pretty  young  women,  happy  young 
women,  are  religious.  You,  dear  child,  so  gay  and 
charming,  don't  tell  me  that  you  really  fear  any 
gods." 

At  a  branching  path,  where  the  sunlight  de- 
scended in  long  shafts  through  openings  made  by 
the  overthrow  of  a  great  tree,  Vicente  waited  for 
them.  An  enormous  black  butterfly  with  spots 
the  color  of  verdigris  on  its  wings,  plunged  and 
soared  in  the  patterned  light;  looking  upward, 
long  trails  of  gold-green  leaves  that  appeared  to 
breathe  in  that  radiant  atmosphere  made  fairy 
ladders  to  impossible  heights,  heights  where  a 
different  kind  of  airy  life  existed  far  out  of  reach 
and  sight.  All  about  the  spot  where  the  tree  had 
been  cut  out,  quantities  of  chips  of  bright  violet 
wood  strewed  the  ground,  coloring  it  as  if  a  multi- 
tude of  amethyst  flowers  grew  there. 

Did  the  senhores  wish  to  see  the  defumadores 
now?  They  could  of  course  walk  through  many 
more  kilometers  of  the  seringal  and  see  dozens  of 
rubber  trees,  if  they  wished,  but  one  tree  was 
much  like  another.  ...  By  taking  the  right-hand 
path  they  could  reach  a  smoking  hut  in  six 
minutes.  .  . 

Very  well — if  the  Senhora  Margarita  did  not 
want  to  follow  the  long  day's  trail  of  the  serin- 
gueiro  ? 

**I  should  like  to  do  just  that,  just  out  of  curi- 
osity,'' she  declared.  *'But  this  is  much  too  late? 
I  should  have  to  begin  before  dawn  ? ' ' 

Indeed  she  would,  Custodio  told  her.  It  was  a 
terrible  life!  He  began  to  tell  her  that  he  had 


BLACK  GOLD  179 

superintended  the  opening  of  a  great  tract  farther 
up  the  Negro,  back  in  the  eighties,  when  the  in- 
dustrial use  of  rubber  began  to  teach  the  Amazon 
the  value  of  its  wild  forests.  He  had  marched  for 
days  with  the  expert  foresters,  examining  these 
huge,  swampy  tracts  and  marking  out  the  rubber 
trees,  and  for  one  season  he  had  acted  as  the 
superintendent  of  a  seringal. 

'*Ah,  what  a  life,  to  be  a  seringueiro!  It  re- 
quires so  much  physical  labor  in  a  region  where 
sustained  physical  labor  is  almost  impossible  on 
account  of  heat  and  fevers  ...  so  much  inde- 
pendent, individual  effort,  too,  because  each  man 
works  alone,  and  really  no  one  demands  any  ac- 
count of  his  task  from  him.  If  he  brings  in  his 
big  balls  of  black  gold  now  and  again,  well  and 
good,  but  if  he  does  not,  if  he  cannot,  if  he  be- 
comes sick  and  dies  here  in  the  forest,  perhaps  no 
one  knows  for  weeks.  It  must  be  so  easy  to  render 
up  the  soul  in  this  forest,  all  green,  green,  in  the 
midst  of  so  much  silence,  in  these  vast  dim  aisles, 
I  think." 

He  interpreted  a  murmur  from  the  girl. 

**Why  does  he  do  it?  To  get  money?  Some- 
times he  doesn't  get  any!  That  depends  upon 
Hamburg  and  London  and  New  York,  senhoral 
And  if  he  does  finish  his  season's  work  safely, 
with  even  a  conto  or  two  in  his  pocket,  he  is  likely 
to  spend  it  all  in  a  riotous  week  in  Manaos,  buy- 
ing a  gold  watch  for  himself  and  diamond  earrings 
for  a  sweetheart. 

**For  that  he  has  spent  six  or  eight  months  in 
the  forest,  perhaps,  getting  up  every  morning  be- 
fore dawn,  walking  possibly  eight  or  nine  kilo- 
meters gashing  the  trees:  coming  back  to  his 
miserable   hut,   dripping   his   own   coffee,   often 


180  BLACK  GOLD 

shaking  with  fever  so  that  he  cannot  hold  his  cup 
without  spilling — and  then  making  his  long  round 
again  in  the  steaming^  afternoon,  always  alone, 
collecting  the  milk,  and  bringing  it  back  to  cure 
it,  drop  by  drop,  a  work  that  takes  him  for  sev- 
eral hours,  sometimes  far  into  the  night.  And 
then  to  sleep  in  a  hammock  until  it  is  time  to 
roll  out  of  it  and  begin  again.'* 

She  considered.  **The  rubber  trees  are  so  far 
apart V 

**Yes.  Because  here  in  the  forest  the  internal 
fight  is  still  going  on,  the  fight  between  different 
species  of  trees  and  plants.  You  cannot  find  here 
anything  like  your  woods  of  the  temperate  zone, 
of  just  one  kind  only  of  beeches  or  oaks  or  pines, 
conquerors  after  a  struggle  of  untold  centuries. 
No,  here  they  are  still  battling  for  mastery, 
strangling  each  other — look  at  them,  choking 
each  other  to  death,  a  hundred  kinds  within  an 
arrow  shot.  Ah,  here  we  are.'' 

At  the  edge  of  a  little  clear  stream  stood  the 
smoking  hut,  a  small  palm-leaf  erection  with  a 
pointed  roof,  open  in  front.  In  the  opening  sat  a 
thin,  hollow-eyed  man,  downcast,  with  large 
brown  eyes  that  he  raised  with  a  concentrated, 
melancholy  look  to  the  visitors.  He  murmured  a 
courteous  greeting  and  moved  as  if  to  rise,  but 
stopped  at  a  gesture  and  went  on  with  his  task. 
He  slowly  turned  a  long  handle  resting  on  a 
pointed  stake  and  bearing  at  the  end  a  yellow- 
brown  globe,  darkening  in  the  fumes  of  heavy 
smoke  that  rose  from  the  opening  in  a  tall  cone. 
He  dipped  a  cup  in  a  bucket  of  rubber  milk, 
poured  it  over  the  mass,  turned  it,  saw  it  dry  and 
darken,  patiently  lifted  the  cup  again,  adding  to 
the  ball,  skin  by  skin. 


BLACK  GOLD  181 

As  they  stood  watching,  Leona  and  Bianca,  on 
either  side  of  Domingos  Souza,  joined  them. 
Leona,  imperturbable,  explained  that  Affonso  had 
felt  a  bad  headache  coming  on,  and  had  gone  back 
to  the  boat  to  rest. 

It  was  at  just  about  that  moment  that  Affonso 
parted  the  curtain  of  vines  that  shielded  the  sec- 
ond  hut  on  Ware's  side  of  the  seringal,  stepped 
lightly  and  quickly  across  the  clearing,  put  his 
arm  and  shoulder  to  the  door,  pushed  it  open,  and 
stood  upon  the  threshold  in  a  reek  of  pungent 
smoke. 

John  Ware,  bending  with  absorbed  face  over 
something  that  he  held  in  his  hands  over  the 
smoke,  started  at  this  sudden  entrance.  Blinking 
at  the  access  of  light,  he  peered  at  his  visitor,  and, 
recognizing  him  in  a  moment,  sat  back  on  his  up- 
turned packing  case  and  waited.  The  Brazilian, 
remaining  on  the  threshold,  returned  his  steady 
look  and  spoke  gently  in  slow  Portuguese. 

*'My  very  good  friend,  will  you  not  tell  me 
what  you  are  doing?'' 

Ware  did  not  respond  for  several  seconds,  con- 
tinuing mechanically  to  pull  and  twist  the  gray- 
ish lump  that  he  held  in  his  hands.  Then  he  said 
in  his  cool  voice:  ** Perhaps  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand you." 

Guimaraes  advanced  a  step  or  two  farther  into 
the  hut,  casting  quick  glances  about  him.  The  in- 
terior was  rather  dim,  with  two  small  openings 
high  up  out  of  reach,  but  he  could  see  a  couple 
of  big  roughly  made  tables,  covered  with  neatly 
arranged  assortments  of  little  packages,  heaps  of 
nuts,  and  other  objects  that  he  recognized,  as  well 
as  a  bucket  of  rubber  latex  on  the  floor,  and  an 
array  of  bottles  and  chemical  jars  upon  a  shelf. 


182  BLACK  GOLD 

''Will  you  not  invite  me  to  sit  down?  I  see  the 
top  of  an  inviting  barrel,  and  it  is  a  hot  afternoon 
and  I  have  had  quite  a  walk.  .  .  .  Thank  you.  M}^ 
friend,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  indiscreet.  But — would 
it  not  be  better  if  you  would  confide  in  me?" 

''Confide  .  .  J  About  what?" 

"Your  work  here." 

"My  work  here !"  He  glanced  about  with  a 

smile,  continuing  to  manipulate  the  elastic  lump 
in  his  hands.  "This  is  rubber " 

"Yes,  yes.  But,  permit  me!  Here  are  sheets  of 
crepe,  here  are  biscuits  of  another  kind  .  .  .  pelles 
.  .  .  strips  of  caucho.  If  I  do  not  mistake,  there 
is  a  pile  of  the  white  hevea,  the  fraca.  That  must 
have  given  you  quite  a  little  trouble  to  get,  here  in 
the  region  of  the  black  hevea.  And  yonder  is  an 
assortment  of  chemicals,  and  here  are  you,  stew- 
ing over  a  lump  of  rubber  as  if  your  life  depended 
^onit." 

"My  dear  Guimaraes,  to  take  an  interest  in 
rubber  and  the  different  methods  of  coagulation, 
is  not  peculiar,  not  extraordinary,  upon  the  Ama- 
zon, of  all  places?" 

"I  am  not  saying  that  it  is  a  crime,  but  under 
certain  aspects  it  might  be  indiscreet.  .  .  .  Can 
you  smoke  this  black  Para  tobacco?"  Guimaraes 
offered  his  cigarette  case  to  Ware.  "Now  we  can 
talk  better.  Senhor  Ware,  I  am  truly  your  friend 
or  I  would  not  have  come  here.  Let  me  lay  my 
cards  on  the  table.  Then  you  will  choose  to  put 
down  your  own,  I  hope."  He  looked  pleasantly  at 
the  Englishman.  Ware  remained  silent. 

"This  is  what  interests  me,  Senhor  Ware.  I 
must  go  back  to  matters  of  last  year.  You  had  an 
acquaintance,  a  person  a  little  indiscreet,  to 
whom  you   entrusted  some   specimens   of  your 


BLACK  GOLD  '  ,183 

work  here,  to  take  out  of  the  country.  He  either 
knew  or  guessed  something  of  their  special  ob- 
ject, for  he  talked  about  you  and  your  marvellous 
experiments  one  night  on  the  steamer,  after  he 
had  been  drinking  a  quantity  of  champagne. '^ 

He  stopped.  ^^Yesf  demanded  Ware,  curt  and 
unsmiling. 

'*As  you  know,  Manaos  is  rather  sensitive 
on  the  subject  of  rubber — so  somebody  quietly 
searched  his  baggage,  just  before  he  got  to  Para. 
And  after  that  it  was  thought  well  to  keep  an  eye 
upon  your  correspondence.  Some  of  your  letters 
were  addressed  to  Ceylon."  He  paused  and  added 
a  little  apologetically:  ^*This  was  during  my  ab- 
sence in  Europe.  But  a  few  days  ago  I  found  a 
file  of  records.  Nobody  had,  apparently,  under- 
stood. But  an  idea  struck  me." 

*'I  see."  Ware  smoked  quietly,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  Guimaraes,  who,  after  hesitating  a  moment, 
added:  ''The  truth  is,  you  might  be  in  some 
danger  here  if  your  experiments  came  under 
suspicion. ' ' 

*'You  are  not  suggesting  any  threat  T' 

*'No,  no!  Hardly  that!  We  don't  kill  people— 
at  least,  not  in  cold  blood.  But  our  citizens  can  be 
roused  to  anger  if  they  are  skillfully  excited:  and 
there  are  more  than  Brazilians  interested  in  the 
good  fortunes  of  ouro  preto.  There  is  all  Bolivia 
and  Peru,  for  instance;  and  think  of  the  number 
of  rich  foreign  houses  here.  For  all  of  them,  the 
high-priced  'hard  fine'  rubber,  the  supreme  black 
gold,  is  the  triumphant  product  of  the  up-river 
trees."  He  spoke  very  warmly,  was  silent  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  said  with  a  friendly  air: 
*'I  wish  you  would  trust  me." 
Ware  moved  his  packing  case  a  little  nearer, 


184  BLACK  GOLD 

and  answered  pleasantly:  *' Very  well,  I  will.  Ton 
have  always  been  a  sincere  friend,  and  added  to 
that  you  are  one  of  the  people  in  whom  I  could 
logically  confide  now,  because  you  are,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  deeply  interested  in  my  success,  on 
account  of  your  family  interests  in  the  lower  Am- 
azon. .  .  .  Supposing  that  there  were  discovered 
some  means  of  making  your  fraca  from  the  white 
hevea,  all  that  output  of  rubber  from  the  delta,  as 
good  as  the  up-river  rubber?  If  there  were  such  a 
process,  wouldn't  it  be  valuable!'' 

Guimaraes  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  **A 
process — things  that  you  can  do  to  the  latex  ? ' ' 

'^Precisely!  Things  I  do  to  it." 

*'I  imagined  that  it  was  something  like  that. 
Yes,  of  course  it  would  be  valuable.  It  would  im- 
mediately valorise  all  the  product  of  the  lower 
river.  And  I,  Para-bom,  inheriting  estates  there, 
naturally  take  a  delighted  interest.  But  I  cannot 
believe  it  can  be  done." 

^*I  should  not  like  to  say  that  it  can,  in  bulk 
or  with  the  latex  of  all  the  *red'  and  'white'  trees. 
Of  course  you  know  that  that 's  the  basis  of  all  our 
difficulty  with  our  plantation  rubber  in  the  East. 
We  treat  it  beautifully,  with  exact  science,  and 
yet  it  still  mills  unequally,  and  hasn't  got  the 
elasticity  and  tensile  strength  of  the  stuff  pro- 
duced and  cured  here  by  the  most  primitive 
method  on  earth.  .  .  .  The  plantation  product 
hasn't  the  same  market,  on  that  account.  That's 
what  I  have  tried  to  remedy.  I  won't  say  defi- 
nitely that  it  can  be  done  in  quantity.  But  I  have 
great  hopes.  Look  at  this,  feel  it,  pull  it.  That's 
the  poorest  kind  of  white  scrap,  after  a  treatment 
I  have  given  it. ' ' 

He    handed    Guimaraes    the    piece    of    dingy 


BLACK  GOLD  185 

substance  lie  still  held  in  his  hands.  The  other, 
not  enough  of  a  technician  to  criticize  this  marvel, 
pulled  it  about  a  little  and  tried  to  look  wise. 

'^This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  got  quite 
near  the  results  I  want.  But  there  is  still  some- 
thing to  be  determined.  ...  If  I  had  absolutely 
completed  my  experiments,  and  perhaps  if  you 
had  been  anyone  else,  I  might  have  told  you  to 
go  to  the  devil  just  now.'' 

**As  it  is,  we  may  as  well  go  into  this  together. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  process  when 
you  have  completed  it?" 

**I  haven't  quite  got  to  that  yet." 

**Precisely  like  you  scientific  men  with  one 
idea!  I  suppose  you  would  hand  over  the  for- 
mula to  some  indifferent  government  bureau  and 
they  would  put  it  into  a  pigeonhole  for  twenty 
years." 

**0h,  not  quite  that  ..." 

''Come,  tell  me,  what  would  be  the  best  thing 
you  could  do,  to  get  all  possible  benefit  from  the 
process  quickly?" 

''Install  equipment  for  treating  the  fresh  milk 
in  quantity,"  Ware  said  quickly.  "Of  course, 
that  would  be  easy  enough  in  the  East.  I  should 
start  to  use  it  there  myself.  There  the  milk  can 
be  taken  to  central  factories  as  soon  as  it's  col- 
lected. It  should  be  done  while  the  milk  is  fresh, 
during  the  coagulating  process,  although  I  have 
got  fair  results  with  very  poor  stuff  that  had  been 
coagulated  ten  days  before — ^this  for  instance, 
from  Santarem." 

"Yes — I  discovered  a  few  days  ago  that  you 
were  importing  rubber  to  the  seringal,"  Gui- 
maraes  interjected. 

"Of   course,   in  your   delta  region,   with   the 


186  BLACK  GOLD 

curing  done  by  individuals,  in  small  quantities, 
and  over  great  distances,  it's  a  different  problem. 
But  even  if  it  could  be  brought  to  central  factories 
once  a  week.  ...  It  would  have  to  be  thought 
out." 

**Very  well.  If  you  think  that  would  be  feas- 
ible, I  will  go  in  with  you,"  said  the  Brazilian.  **I 
will  keep  your  secret,  and  I  will  find  the  capital 
for  installations  in  Para  territory,  if  you  will  give 
me  the  use  of  the  process  on  a  business  basis — ^I 
won't  say  in  return  for  my  discretion;  I  am  really 
not  trying  to  drive  a  bargain  with  you. ' ' 

** There's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't,"  Ware 
smiled.  **But  I  shall  be  delighted  if  you  will  un- 
dertake the  active  use  of  the  process.  I  warn  you 
that  I  do  not  believe  it  can  be  kept  secret  for  very 
long,  and  personally  I  have  no  idea  of  making  any 
mystery,  after  I  am  once  sure  that  I  have  really 
got  it." 

**Very  well.  Then  you  would  have  no  objection 
to  giving  me — ^I  don't  know  just  what  it  should 
be  called?  An  option,  shall  we  say,  for  the  work- 
ing rights  of  your  method?  As  far  as  the  lower 
Amazon  is  concerned?" 

**  Yes,  if  you  will  at  the  same  time  give  me  your 
undertaking  to  make  all  possible  use  of  it.  It  is 
exceedingly  simple  .  .  .  largely  a  question  of 
manipulation.  There's  nothing  needed  but  the 
proper  machinery,  a  lot  of  water  at  the  right  tem- 
perature, and  one  cheap  chemical." 

Guimaraes  took  out  a  notebook  and  fountain 
pen  and  began  to  write,  saying  between  sentences, 
*'We  can  settle  details  and  legal  points  later.  But 
this  will  serve  meanwhile.  ...  No  doubt  you  are 
right  about  the  impossibility  of  keeping  the  proc- 
ess secret,  but  one  need  fear  very  few  rivals  in 


BLACK  GOLD  187 

industry  on  the  Amazon.  Everybody  here  wants 
to  make  fortunes  by  juggling  with  figures." 

^*You  would  have  to  start  factories  on  a  com- 
mercial scale.  It  means  a  lot  of  work  in  organ- 
izing. Are  you  prepared  to  do  that?" 

'^Yes.  I  am  not  so  devoted  to  politics.  That 
life  requires  a  special  temperament.  I  wish  to  be 
happy.  .  .  .  Besides,  I  think  our  party  is  going 
to  be  beaten  at  the  election."  Eeplying  to  Ware's 
look,  he  added,  **Yes,  I  know  what  I  said  an  hour 
ago.  But  now  I  am  telling  you  what  I  think.  We 
are  immensely  outnumbered.  Evaristo  says  he 
has  something  in  reserve,  but  I  doubt. ' ' 

* 'Politics  are  a  fearful  bore,"  the  Englishman 
thought.  *' Especially  when  there  are  upsets  that 
interfere  with  your  work. ' '  This  was,  in  fact,  his 
main  attitude  to  political  problems. 

Affonso  Guimaraes  stood  upon  the  threshold  to 
get  light  as  he  wrote. 

*'For  the  present,  my  dear  fellow,  it  will  be  as 
well  to  continue  to  maintain  the  same  discretion 
that  you  have  already  tried  to  exercise.  For,  how- 
ever useful  your  discovery  will  be  to  the  world  at 
large,  we  may  be  sure  that  our  dealers  in  the 
famous  up-river  rubber  are  not  going  to  be  pleased 
about  it.  It  will  spoil  their  monopoly." 

'*  Probably.  Yes.  But  one  need  not  consider 
dealers  only." 

**That  is  exactly  my  feeling.  Still,  until  we  are 
ready  it  is  as  well  to  be  careful." 

They  exchanged  signatures,  stooping  over  an 
upturned  barrel  that  stood  near  the  door  and 
served  for  a  desk.  Alfonso,  glancing  out  to  the 
bright  clearing  with  its  ring  of  tall  trees,  tangled 
with  parasites  in  gaudy  masses,  remarked  that 
Ware  had  chosen  his  retreat  well.  ''It's  an  excel- 


188  BLACK  GOLD 

lent  place  for  experiments.  No  one  has,  I  am  sure, 
thought  it  odd  that  you  should  spend  so  much 
time  here,  and  not  a  soul  but  Evaristo  and  my- 
self has  any  idea  that  your  doings  might  be  of 
any  special  interest  to  Manaos.  .  .  .  The  only 
person  who  has  had  the  least  chance  of  access  to 
my  papers  is  my  secretary,  young  Souza,  and  he 
is  too  stupid  to  take  any  notice.'* 

''You  are  sure  of  thatT' 

**0h,  quite!  That's  why  I  chose  him.  And  be- 
cause, too,  he  has  for  years  cherished  a  passion 
for  my  cousin  Leona,  and  therefore  has  the  most 
urgent  reasons  for  placating  me  with  all  the 
inside  news  he  can  bring  from  the  conspiring 
household  of  his  dear  papa  .  .  .  ah,  if  he  were  only 
intelligent  he  could  have  been  really  useful.  But 
alas !  he  is  nothing  but  a  pocket  mirror  as  regards 
himself  and  a  shadow  as  regards  Leona." 

Ware  laughed,  sauntering  out  into  the  sun 
with  the  young  politician,  who  made  his  way 
through  the  bushes  saying  that  his  party  would 
return  from  the  seringal  soon.  ''I  must  not  keep 
them  waiting.  ...  I  hope  to  see  you  in  the  city 
soon,  my  friend."  They  parted  with  a  cordial 
abrago. 

When  the  others  returned  from  the  forest  to  the 
landing  stage,  Affonso  lay  fast  asleep  under  the 
awnings  of  the  boat,  lapped  by  the  lazy  little 
waves  of  the  black  water  under  the  shade  of  arch- 
ing trees. 


J 


XV 

RETURNING  from  a  prolonged  rehearsal  that 
had  gone  badly  on  account  of  the  gaps  in  the 
personnel,  Francina  climbed  the  bare  wooden 
stairs  of  the  hotel,  swathed  in  darkness  by  com- 
parison with  the  blinding  glare  outside.  She 
spoke  over  her  shoulder  to  Margarita. 

**How  in  the  world  am  I  to  break  it  to  my 
precious  consort  that  his  very  prettiest  chorus 
girl  has  vanished!''  she  demanded.  **Did  you 
hear  what  Laroche  said?  He's  sure  she  has  gone 
to  that  big  good-looking  Portuguese  rubber  mer- 
chant, you  know,  one  of  those  amiable  creatures 
who  took  us  for  a  drive  the  first  night!  He's  got 
a  huge  white  marble  house  on  the  Flores  tram 
line." 

*  *  Giulia  seems  to  know  all  about  it, ' '  Margarita 
thought.  *'She  was  frightfully  excited,  and  said 
she  'd  had  a  letter,  and  Graziela  was  quite  safe  and 
very  happy." 

**0h,  good  heavens!  Safe  and  happy!"  Fran- 
cina cried.  Then,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  she  re- 
marked that  at  this  rate  they  would  need  a  new 
chorus  every  ten  days,  and  told  Margarita  to  go 
and  lie  down  for  ten  minutes  before  lunch.  '*I 
must  see  how  Salvie  is.  .  .  .  You  look  worn  out, 
Margie.  Don't  you  dare  to  get  ill." 

Pulling  off  her  shady  hat,  she  sauntered  into 
the  wide  room  where  Salvatore  lay  on  the  tossed 
bed,  his  stretched  figure  dimly  seen  through  the 
heavy  white  veil  of  the  mosquito  netting,    The 

189 


190  BLACK  GOLD 

shntters  were  nearly  closed,  but  through  narrow 
cracks  poured  shafts  of  yellow  dancing  light. 

She  stepped  quietly  to  the  bedside,  parted  the^ 
mosquito  bar,  and  looked  down  upon  her  hus- 
band. His  face,  deeply  flushed,  was  turned 
towards  her.  His  eyes  were  shut  and  he  breathed 
stertorously.  His  arms  were  flung  wide  and  the 
collar  of  his  cotton  pajamas  was  open,  showing 
the  swarthy  neck  with  its  prominent  Adam's 
apple.  He  had  not  been  shaved  for  two  days,  and 
a  blue-black  stubble  covered  the  lower  part  of  his 
face;  a  mop  of  unkempt  black  hair  was  tossed 
back  from  his  burning  forehead. 

Francina  surveyed  him  for  a  couple  of  long 
minutes,  her  lips  pressed  together.  Plainly  he 
was  in  no  condition  to  be  told  of  troubles.  An 
expression  of  distaste  clouded  her  fair  face,  and, 
dropping  the  edges  of  the  netting,  she  turned  to 
go  from  the  room;  some  movement  caught  the  at- 
tention of  the  uneasy  sleeper,  and  he  suddenly 
opened  brilliant,  bloodshot  eyes  upon  her,  start- 
ing up  from  the  pillow  and  at  once  sinking  back 
weakly. 

She  stood  still  and  spoke  gently.  Did  he  want 
anything? 

'*  Something  cold  to  drink,  for  the  love  of 
God!"  he  muttered,  and  added  something  under 
his  breath  as  he  began  to  shiver.  Was  he  to  lie 
there  and  die  Kke  a  dog  in  this  rotten  place?  The 
quinine — where  was  the  quinine? 

She  looked  about,  gingerly  handled  the  group 
of  bottles  and  little  boxes  on  the  marble-topped 
table  by  the  bedside,  and  stared  helplessly  at  the 
labels.  While  she  searched,  Salvatore,  with  a  pal- 
lid face  and  blue  lips,  shut  his  eyes  again  and 
seemed  to  sink  into  the  bed,  to  shrink  and  become 


BLACK  GOLD  191 

bloodless.  Rather  alarmed,  she  went  out:  she 
would  call  the  old  woman  who  had  been  fetched 
to  nurse  him,  she  would  send  again  for  the  doc- 
tor. Francina  feared  illness  for  herself  and  hated 
it  in  other  people;  it  opened  vistas  from  which 
she  fled.  Nothing  but  her  instinct  for  outwardly 
at  least  doing  the  right  thing  ever  dragged  her 
to  a  bedside. 

On  the  turn  of  the  stairs  she  met  Feliciano, 
greeting  him  with  immense  relief.  *'0h,  Felici- 
ano, the  senhor  is  very  ill!  "Where  is  Maria?  She 
should  not  leave  him!  Eating  almogo?  Do  go  and 
look  at  him,  Feliciano,  and  give  him  some  qui- 
nine. Stay  there,  please,  and  I  will  send  again  for 
the  doctor.'' 

Courtly,  alert  and  efificient,  the  camereiro  as- 
sured the  lady  that  he  would  do  all  things  on 
earth  for  her.  The  senhor  merely  had  a  touch  of 
fever;  it  would  pass.  Let  her  not  be  troubled. 
He  would  go  at  once  to  him.  She  gave  him  a 
seraphic  smile  and  went  down  the  stairs,  looking 
into  the  deserted  dining  room  where  a  barefoot 
boy  was  hastily  arranging  plates  with  a  tremen- 
dous clatter.  As  she  reached  the  last  step  the  Ital- 
ian manager  emerged  hastily  from  the  reception 
room  on  the  other  side  of  the  little  hallway,  and 
clasped  his  hands  together,  bowing  low,  at  the 
sight  of  her. 

A  thousand  pardons!  He  was  just  coming  to 
seek  Madame  Antonelli!  He  begged  her  most 
kind  attention  for  a  moment.  He  breathed  this  in 
a  stage  whisper,  an  eye  turned  to  the  door  he  had 
just  left.  If  madame  permitted,  there  was  a  mes- 
senger here,  beseeching  the  favor  of  two  minutes' 
interview.  He  was  in  the  salon,  if  madame  would 
condescend!  No  one  should  interrupt. 


192  BLACK  GOLD 

She  stared  coolly  at  the  man,  a  little  amused 
by  his  air  of  excitement  about  a  trifle.  '^What 
does  he  want?  You  have  his  cardT' 

**  Madame,  he  is  from  a  very — a  very  distin- 
guished— ^person,  and  if  the  lady  will  pardon,  he 
has  no  card,  only  begging  for  a  word,  a 
moment." 

Francina  considered  for  a  few  seconds,  then 
turned  to  the  door,  instantly  opened  by  the  obse- 
quious manager.  On  the  threshold  she  stopped  to 
tell  him  to  send  the  old  Maria  to  her  husband, 
and  to  forbid  her  to  leave  him,  enjoying  as  she 
spoke  the  nervous  anxiety  of  the  man,  obviously 
dying  to  get  her  safely  into  the  room  with  the 
door  shut. 

Inside,  the  room  was  shaded,  and  at  a  far  win- 
dow by  the  crack  of  the  shutter  stood  a  very  slim 
young  man,  a  small-waisted  dandy  with  a  long 
melancholy  face  and  dark  eyes,  of  a  type  so  fre- 
quent that  she  could  not  remember  whether  she 
had  seen  this  particular  youth  before.  He  came 
forward  at  once,  steering  past  the  double  row  of 
rockers  that  almost  filled  the  room,  a  large  cane 
settee  at  the  head  of  the  intimidating  array. 

** Madame!"  The. young  man  stood  with  his 
tiny  buttoned  boots  pressed  close  together,  his 
hat  upon  his  heart,  as  he  bent  his  sleek  dark  head. 
Francina  sat  down  upon  the  nearest  chair  and  re- 
garded him  with  inquiry.  He  burst  into  rapid 
French. 

**  Madame,  permit  me  to  convey  a  message.  I 
am  desolated  to  intrude  upon  madame  in  such 
haste  .  .  .  there  was  no  time  for  writing!  You 
are  entreated  to  pardon  the  informality  ...  of 
your  great  kindness,  to  forgive  the  apparent  dis- 
regard of  les  convenances " 


BLACK  GOLD  193 

''Don't  trouble  to  apologize  any  more.  You 
brought  a  verbal  message.  What  is  it,  and  from 
whomf 

Thus  caught  up  sharply,  the  young  man  came 
at  once  to  the  point. 

''Madame  de  Freitas  begs  jou  to  take  lunch 
with  her.  To  come  now,  to  her  house.  A  carriage 
is  waiting  at  the  door. ' ' 

Francina's  cool  blue  eyes  met  the  intelligent 
dark  glance  of  the  young  man.  She  thought 
quickly.  All  this  flurry  about  a  lunch  invitation 
from  an  old  lady?  But  for  Madame  de  Freitas, 
who  she  knew  did  not  like  her  very  well  and  who 
was  the  soul  of  punctiliousness,  to  send  a  hasty 
verbal  message  that  ignored  Francina's  husband 
and  sister,  was  a  matter  whose  oddity  was  empha- 
sized by  this  absurd  agitation.  She  stood  up  and 
said  briefly,  "I  am  sorry,  but  my  husband  has 
fever,  and  I  cannot  leave  him.  It  is  most  kind, 
but '' 

The  young  man  broke  in.  "Madame,  I  beg  you! 
If  madame  y7"ill  permit  me  one  more  word!  His 
excellency  begs  you ''    He  stopped. 

*'His  excellency?" 
:    *' Yes,  madame." 

*'He  is  at  the  house  of  Madame  de  Freitas?" 

"He  will  go  there  in  a  few  moments,  as  soon  as 
he  knows " 

"I  see."  Francina  smiled.  She  walked  to  the 
door  and  spoke  with  a  calm  formality.  "I  regret 
very  much  not  to  accept  this  kindness.  But  my 
family  duties  prevent." 

The  young  man  turned  paler.  His  eyes  were 
agonized.   "Ah,  but  madame " 

She  went  on  without  heeding  him.  "However, 
after  almoQO  I  will  give  myself  the  pleasure  of 


194  BLACK  GOLD 

calling  upon  dear  madame  for  a  moment  if  it  is 
convenient  for  her  to  receive  me." 

She  left  him  without  another  word  and  re- 
turned to  the  upper  rooms,  meeting  Bianca  on  the 
landing  and  sweeping  that  lady  in  her  wake  as 
she  sought  the  depleted  company.  A  glance  into 
Salvatore's  room  showed  the  old  Maria  sitting 
beside  the  bed  ceaselessly  waving  a  fan  to  and 
fro  before  the  mosquito  netting. 

After  lunch,  a  silent  meal  at  which  Laroche  as 
well  as  the  women  displayed  signs  of  wilting  in 
the  heavy  heat,  Francina  waited  for  some  twenty 
minutes  until  her  party  had  disappeared  into 
their  rooms  for  the  siesta,  and  then  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  the  hotel  manager  to  request  a  carriage. 
He  came  instantly  to  tell  her,  with  manifold  bows 
and  sedulously  blank  eyes,  that  Madame  de  Frei- 
tas '  carriage  was  waiting,  having  returned  for  the 
senhora's  convenience.  She  stepped  in  and  was 
driven  through  streets  that  blistered  visibly  in 
the  drenching  glare.  Blue  shadows  lay  on  the 
sides  of  the  silent  and  shuttered  houses,  and 
hardly  a  soul  but  some  barefoot  laborer  was  to 
be  seen. 

Arrived,  she  was  shown  into  a  long  room  that 
opened  on  to  a  wide  veranda  and  garden,  seen  in 
green  and  flowery  cracks  through  the  shutters. 
Leona  de  Freitas,  beautifully  dressed,  with  her 
inevitable  appearance  of  an  expensive  doll,  came 
forward  murmuring  courtesies,  her  long  white 
eyelids  almost  shut.  She  conveyed  the  apologies, 
for  a  moment,  of  her  aunt,  who  was  lying  down, 
but  would  come  inmiediately  to  express  her  great 
pleasure.  .  .  .  She  melted  from  the  room,  and 
before  the  door  had  quite  closed,  it  reopened  to 
admit  Evaristo  da  Cunha, 


BLACK  GOLD  195 

He  stood  still  and  looked  at  Francina;  she  sat 
back  and  regarded  him  with  negligent  compo- 
sure, covering  her  acute  curiosity. 

**You  are  offended  T'  he  asked  very  gently. 

**I  am  not  sure." 

He  came  forward  quickly.  **Ah,  do  not  be! 
If  you  knew  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you — and  I 
have  been,  am  still,  not  only  terribly  occupied,  but 
so  much  surrounded,  so  much  watched.  Already 
my  admiration  for  you  has  attracted  attention, 
and  I  did  not  wish  to  compromise  you  in  the 
slightest.  But  I  need  your  presence,  your  voice — 
I  have  been  nearly  mad  .  .  .  ready  to  risk  al- 
most any  indiscretion " 

** Except  putting  your  pen  to  paper,''  muttered 
the  lady.  But  he  did  not  hear  her  and  went  on: 
* 'Almost  anything,  to  talk  alone  with  you.''  He 
stopped,  came  nearer  until  he  stood  over  her,  and 
bending  his  head,  whispered:  '*Do  you  know  that 
this  is  the  first  time  we  have  ever  been  really 
alone?  Alone  and  out  of  sight  of  other  people?'* 

He  lifted  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  but  kept  his 
eyes  on  her  face.  **I  love  you,  I  love  you,"  he 
said,  very  slowly. 

**Is  that  all?  You  have  said  that  many  times 
when  we  weren't  alone."  She  raised  candidly  re- 
proachful eyes  to  him.  **I  thought  perhaps  there 
was  something — that  something  had  happened, 
of  importance.  That  is  why  I  came." 

'*  There  is.  Or  I  should  not  have  presumed  to 
ask  for  this,"  he  agreed  at  once.  *' Something  has 
happened.  A  political  matter.  I  am  sure  you 
would  not  care  to  know.  But  it  is  imperative  that 
someone  goes  to  Paris  at  once:  to  arrange  a  piece 
of  financial  business.  It  is  immediate.  My  party 
wishes  me  to  g( 


196  BLACK  GOLD 

She  interrupted  him.  '*I  thought  there  was  to 
be  an  election?  You  are  concerned  in  that?  You 
must  be  heref 

**Yes,  yes,  on  the  twenty-fourth.  I  must  see 
that  through,  and  then  go  at  once — if  I  go. 
There  *s  a  boat — the  Sonho,  due  to  leave  here  that 
day.  It  need  not  be  known  that  I  go.  My  enemies 
would  make  political  capital  of  it.  I  can  arrange 
that  the  Sonho  will  leave  during  the  day  as  usual 
but  will  have  a  little  machinery  trouble  and  wait 
for  me  a  few  miles  down  the  Amazon.  I  can  join 
her  quietly  by  launch." 

He  was  speaking  almost  as  if  arguing  it  out  to 
himself,  and  stopped  at  sight  of  her  raised  eye- 
brows. *'You  are  wondering  why  I  tell  you  all 
these  details,  this  small  intriguing.  It  is  because 
I  hope,  I  pray,  I  beseech  Heaven,  that  there  may 
be  another  reason  for  discretion  than  that  of 
local  politics.'' 

Again  she  interrupted  him  quickly.  **Are  not 
local  politics  everything  to  you?  They  say  you 
care  for  nothing  but  power.  .  .  .  Aren't  you  to  be 
governor?" 

**I?  Oh,  no!  Never!  Never!  "We  are  putting  in 
one  of  the  Guimaraes,  the  fat  one,  you  know, 
Hermenegildo.  He  is  vain,  the  idea  appeals  to 
him.  But  for  me,  no !  One  is  too  much  of  a  target. 
It  is  so  much  better,  so  much  more  a  permanent 
power,  to  pull  the  strings  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain. At  least  not  to  receive  all  the  arrows."  He 
had  stood  upright  as  he  spoke,  but  now  bent  over 
her  again  and  dropped  his  voice. 

**But  this  Paris  journey.  I  have  not  decided 
to  go,  in  spite  of  all  that  depends  upon  it." 

*'What  depends  upon  it?" 


i 


BLACK  GOLD  197 

*'Tou  would  not  understand  or  care.  A  matter 
of  finance '' 

**How  do  you  know  I  should  not  understand? 
You  said  that  before.  Tell  me.  I  wish  to  know.'^ 
She  seemed  a  little  piqued,  and  he  yielded  at  once. 

**It's  a  delicate  piece  of  business  concerned 
with  a  loan.  It  has  been  contemplated  for  some 
time.  One  can,  madame,  always  depend  upon  get- 
ting money  in  Paris  or  London  for  any  scheme  so 
long  as  it  is  sufficiently  far  away  from  Paris  and 
London.  And  we  have  had  in  view  a  most  inter- 
esting plan  for  raising  quite  a  large  sum  to — let 
me  think.  Yes,  there  are  two  or  three  great  pieces 
of  public  work.  One  was  to  canalize  all  Amazonas 
in  order  to  prevent  the  yearly  floods.  Another  plan 
was  to  build  asphalt  paths  through  the  rubber 
forests — excellent  ideas,  believe  me.  Nothing  was 
done  about  it  with  our  knowledge,  though.  And 
now  we  hear  that  the  late  governor  presented  the 
plan  to  some  great  European  bankers  and  actu- 
ally got  an  advance.  Naturally,  we  are  very  anx- 
ious. We  must  find  out,  save  what  we  can.''  He 
stopped  again  on  seeing  the  trace  of  a  smile  on 
Francina's  face,  took  her  hand  again,  and  spoke 
in  an  altered  tone. 

*'Why  do  you  not  let  me  speak?  Of  the  thing 
I  want  to  say?  Do  you  know  why  I  have  still 
hesitated  to  say  I  will  go?  Do  you  know?'' 

She  did  not  answer.  He  went  on,  his  eyes  on 
her  face:  '*Yes,  you  do  know.  Because  I  cannot 
leave  you.  Because  I  cannot  see  my  life  and  yours 
separated,  because  I  do  not  know  how  to  face  the 
days  without  the  sound  of  your  voice.  The  need 
I  have  for  you,  your  person,  your  presence,  is 
more  than  all  the  plans  I  have  laid  for  years." 


198  BLACK  GOLD 

As  he  stooped  before  her,  Francina  looked 
across  his  shoulder  to  the  long  shutter,  where  a 
shaft  of  golden-green  light  filtered  through  a 
screen  of  leaves,  hung  with  the  orange-red  tassels 
of  some  tropic  vine.  Her  eyes  rested  upon  the  leaf 
mosaic  idly,  perhaps  to  avoid  the  small  surrender 
of  meeting  Evaristo's  insistent  look,  and  it  was 
thus  that  she  plainly  saw  a  gentle  stir  among  a 
cluster  of  the  foliage,  and  a  (Jark  eye  that  showed 
oddly  for  a  long  second  before  the  leaves  closed 
again.  Someone  was  trying  to  listen,  someone 
was  spying  there.  .  .  .  Did  Evaristo  know?  He, 
the  omniscient,  in  a  house  of  his  own  clan,  surely 
himself  ordered  any  such  work !  She  made  up  her 
mind  hastily  that  the  owner  of  the  eyes  was  some 
creature  of  Evaristo 's  own  possessing,  and  that 
for  some  reason  a  record  was  being  made  of  this 
interview.  She  flushed  with  a  mingling  of  cool 
amusement  and  genuine  anger,  but  made  no  sign, 
saying  when  he  stopped  speaking,  ''You  should 
not  say  this. ' ' 

He  accepted  this  as  the  proper  convention  and 
bore  it  down  with  enthusiasm.  '*I  must  tell  you! 
Because  it  is  my  life,  and  I  must  make  you  listen 
to  me.  You  are  listening!  Beautiful  Francina, 
when  I  go  you  must  come  with  me,  with  me,  do 
you  hearT' 

She  was  taken  aback  by  his  sudden  frankness. 
''With  your' 

'*Yes."  He  kissed  her  hands  again  and  began 
to  talk  quickly,  his  voice  low  as  always,  his  face 
very  pale.  He  knew  what  she  had  said  the  other 
night,  and  she  could  make  any  terms  she  wanted 
...  a  divorce  could  be  arranged,  if  she  liked. 
Anything,  but  he  adored  her  and  needed  her.  As 
she  listened,  her  attention  half  upon  the  gold- 


BLACK  GOLD  199 

green  leafy  shaft  of  the  window,  she  saw  again 
the  stir  of  leaves  as  a  hand  parted  the  vine. 

At  once  she  stood  up,  backed  away  from  Evar- 
isto  towards  the  window  until  her  shoulder 
almost  touched  the  shutter,  and  spoke  slowly  and 
clearly. 

'^Senhor  da  Cunha,  I  will  try  to  forget  what 
you  have  said.  For  a  moment  you  have  been  care- 
less of  my  position  as  an  honorable  wife,  of  my 
responsibilities  in  a  foreign  city,  with  my  sister 
in  my  charge  and  other  young  girls " 

**  There  are  not  many  young  girls  left  to  need 
your  care,  madame,''  returned  Evaristo  calmly. 
*^At  this  very  moment  the  little  red-haired  one — 
Giuliaf — is  being  decently  married  to  the  agent 
for  the  Italian  line.  Come,  I  beg  you,  let  us 
deal  with  this  as  between  ourselves.  Your  fate  is 
in  your  own  hands.  I  am  sure  you  know  that  I 
love  you  madly.  I  believe  you  like  me.  I  offer  you 
my  life,  I  put  myself  into  your  little  hands.  Ah, 
Francina,  most  beautiful,  I  can  give  you  love." 
He  ceased  abruptly,  his  voice  trembling  and  gen- 
tle as  he  said  the  last  words.  Francina  glanced 
at  the  leaves  behind  her  shoulder,  saw  them  flut- 
ter, and  felt  her  vain  and  rather  gusty  temper 
arise.  She  had  come  here  in  none  too  pleased  a 
mood,  and  the  thought  of  this  audience  in  the 
vines  at  the  window,  brought  here  for  who  knew 
what  obscure  purpose,  annoyed  and  alarmed  her. 
Some  hint,  too,  of  cool  assurance  in  Evaristo 's 
attitude,  despite  his  words  of  humility,  offended 
her.  No  harm,  at  any  rate,  would  be  done  by 
maintaining  a  correct  pose.  She  walked  with  dig- 
nity to  the  door  and  repeated  coldly,  **I  will  try 
to  forget  this.'' 

Perhaps  the  politician  regarded  this  display  as 


200  BLACK  GOLD 

a  fita,  a  theatre  play  in  keeping  with  the  lady's 
value.  He  did  not  appear  abashed,  and  was  follow- 
ing her  to  the  door  when  it  opened  and  Madame  de 
Freitas  appeared,  voluble,  sharp-eyed,  full  of 
apologies  for  keeping  her  guest  waiting,  but  over- 
joyed to  see  her.  .  .  .  She  had  had  tea  made  d 
VAnglaise,  and  it  was  just  ready  on  the  veranda. 
She  led  the  way  through  a  corridor  to  the  broad 
and  shaded  veranda,  hung  with  bougainvillea 
and  coral  vine  and  the  orange-red  tassels  of  some 
luxuriant  creeper  that  ran  all  along  the  house. 
Eecognizing  this  flower,  Francina  noted,  making 
rapid  calculations,  that  the  far  end  of  this  ve- 
randa must  open  into  the  room  she  had  just  left. 
No  one,  of  course,  now  stood  by  these  windows. 
From  the  garden  came  two  young  people:  the 
dainty  Leona  and  Domingos  Souza,  he  gaily  re- 
fusing tea  and  making  his  adieux  with  ceremony. 
He  was  evidently  paying  assiduous  court  to  the 
beauty,  Francina  noted,  and  decided  in  spite  of 
her  lively  suspicions  of  everybody,  that  under  the 
circumstances  it  could  not  be  Domingos  who  had 
spied.  **He  is  much  too  silly  and  too  much  in 
love,''  she  said  to  herself. 

Here,  however,  she  wronged  the  young  man. 
For,  returning  to  the  hotel  an  hour  later,  when  all 
the  colors  of  Manaos  took  on  an  unearthly  loveli- 
ness after  the  withdrawal  of  the  sun's  glare,  she 
stepped  from  the  carriage  to  find  Domingos  wait- 
ing at  the  hotel  door  to  hand  her  in.  He  bowed 
low  before  her,  said  simply,  **  Madame,  my  father 
is  waiting  to  see  you,"  and  almost  hustled  the 
lady  into  the  reception  room.  Looking  at  the  bent 
back  of  the  portly  Domingos  Souza  pere,  it 
seemed  to  Francina  in  the  midst  of  her  legitimate 


BLACK  GOLD  201 

annoyance  that  these  last  hours  were  a  scene  in 
some  ridiculous  farce,  in  which  she  was  always 
being  hurried  into  rooms  to  receive  the  urgings 
of  agitated  gentlemen. 

Her  new  visitor  wasted  no  time  in  apologies. 
''Madame,  I  will  keep  you  but  a  few  moments, '^ 
he  assured  her.  ''But  when  you  have  heard  me  I 
think  you  will  pardon  what  would,  without  some 
good  reason,  be  an  intrusion."  She  nearly  told 
him  that  she  was  inured  to  intrusions,  but  re- 
pressed speech  for  the  moment,  convinced  that 
this  man  at  least  had  something  to  say.  She  took 
the  pins  from  her  big  hat  and  pushed  her  hair 
back  from  her  face,  chose  the  settee  as  the  only 
firm  piece  of  furniture,  and  motioned  the  elderly 
Souza  to  her  side. 

"No  doubt,"  she  said,  "it  is  a  business  matter 
connected  with  the  theatre.  Tell  me  at  once, 
please.  I  am  very  tired." 

"It  is  a  business  matter,"  he  said  at  once.  "I 
will  be  quite  open  with  madame.  She  has  just 
rejected  the  suggestion  made  to  her  by — ^by  a 
certain  distinguished  person.  Madame,  if  you  will 
change  your  mind,  ten  thousand  pounds  shall  be 
placed  in  the  London  and  Brazilian  Bank  to  your 
credit  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

It  was  a  farce.  She  resisted  an  impulse  to 
laugh,  and  pleated  the  ribbon  on  her  hat,  remain- 
ing silent. 

"Let  me  give  madame  a  few  minutes  to  think. 
I  have  surprised  her." 

"Nothing  surprises  me  here,"  said  Francina. 
"Naturally,  however,  I  am  shocked  and  indig- 
nant. Also,  I  am  curious.  What  are  your  reasons  f 
And  first,  how  do  you  know  that  anything  has 


202  BLACK  GOLD 

passed  between  myself  and  the  person  of  whom 
you  speak?" 

'  The  portly  gentleman  threw  out  his  hands. 
''When  one  is  dealing  with  such  intriguing  polit- 
icos,  one  must  know  everything.  This  person, 
madame '^ 

'*Is  your  bitter  political  enemy/'  she  broke  in. 
''Why  then,  Dr.  Souza,  should  you  be  willing  to 
pay  such  a  sum  to — how  shall  we  put  it? — to  help 
him  to  secure  something  he  wants?" 

"We  are  willing  to  use  that  sum  to  get  him  out 
of  Manaos,  madame.  We  believe  that  he  meant 
it  when  he  said  he  would  not  go  away  without  you. 
He  has  a  madness.  It  is  not  strange. ' '  She  waved 
aside  this  rather  heavy  gallantry. 

"Why  do  you  want  him  out  of  Manaos?" 

"Politics.  Madame  would  not  be  interested." 
Again!   Politics  were  not  for  women,  it  seemed. 

"Under  ordinary  circumstances,  no,"  she  said. 
"But  I  repeat  that  I  am  very  curious.  Don't  you 
think  that  since  you  make  me  such  an  extraordi- 
nary proposition,  a  distinctly  intimate  one,  that 
you  should  tell  me  the  truth  about  it?" 

He  appeared  stung,  grieved.  "The  truth!  But 
madame!  Have  I  not  already  laid  my  cards  quite 
frankly  on  the  table?  We  trust  you  very  thor- 
oughly,  madame.  Certainly  I  will  explain  more. 
Evaristo,  now,  has  gone  too  far.  He  is  not  con- 
tent with  the  swing  of  the  political  pendulum. 
He  wants  to  rule.  He  and  his  party  have  had 
their  turn,  and  he  is  persuading  them  to  intrigue 
in  order  to  stay  in  power.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
however,  we  can  defeat  him  at  the  election  on  the 
twenty-fourth,  and  our  plans  are  all  laid  for  it. 
We  are  going  to  beat  him."  He  spoke  positively. 


BLACK  GOLD  203 

**Very  well,  then  why  are  you  taking  any  more 
trouble  r' 

**  Because  he  will  be  enraged,  and  if  he  stays 
here  he  will  employ  all  the  months  before  we 
actually  assume  of&ce  in  making  trouble  and  plot- 
ting, if  he^s  here  he  will  never  accept  the  situa- 
tion. He  is  capable  of  making  a  revolt.  He  is  a 
firebrand  without  fear  or  scruple.  He  might 
plunge  Amazonas  into  disorder  that  would  injure 
our  international  credit.  ..." 

**I  see.  I  am  to  take  him  away  and  soothe 
him." 

*^ Madame,"  said  the  respectable-looking  citi- 
zen, **you  are  the  one  person  in  the  world,  at  pres- 
ent, who  can  do  it.  Please  remember,  our  party  is 
quite  willing  to  be  reasonable.  We  are  perfectly 
ready  to  let  him  have  the  handling  of  the  French 
loan — a  very  nice  piece  of  business.  And  in  a  few 
years'  time  no  doubt  he  will  be  in  office  again. 
But  now  it  is  our  turn." 

Francina  reflected.  **And  for  the  sake  of  these 
political  schemes,  you  ask  me  to  destroy  my 
domestic  happiness,"  she  said  with  a  hint  of 
reproach. 

*'Not  unless  the  lady  chooses,"  responded 
Souza  pere  briskly.  **We  have  also  thought  of 
that.  We  respect  the  fine  feeling  of  madame.  It 
has  been  considered.  In  fact,  we  will  do  every- 
thing to  protect  her,  to  preserve  appearances.  If 
madame  wishes  I  will  take  the  same  care  of  her 
as  of  my  own  daughter." 

For  once  in  her  life  Francina  was  startled. 

**  Really,  Senhor  Doutor!  I  am  to  run  away 
from  my  husband  with  another  man  and  yet  pre- 
serve appearances  1    How  is  that  1 ' ' 


204  BLACK  GOLD 

The  citizen  mopped  a  moist  brow,  but  main- 
tained his  even  and  businesslike  tone  as  he  pro- 
ceeded to  explain.  **  Madame  could  so  easily 
leave  the  boat  at  Para.  Without  observation:  we 
could  arrange  that.  And  as  far  as  Para,  and  back 
again  here  too,  if  madame  wishes,  I  will  guar- 
antee the  companionship  of  a  married  lady  of  our 
party. ' ' 

Francina  looked  into  the  anxious  round  eyes  of 
the  plotter,  sat  back  in  the  corner  of  the  settee, 
and  laughed  unaffectedly.  **0h,  senhor,  this  is 
delicious!"  She  wiped  her  eyes.  ^^ Suppose  I 
were  so  charmed  with  the — the  person — that  I 
didn't  leave  the  boat  at  Paraf 

''That  is  entirely  as  the  lady  pleases.  So  long 
as  we  get  him  away  from  Manaos. ' ' 

''But,  finding  himself  flouted,  he  might  come 
back  from  Para.'' 

"No.  He  would  look  too  foolish.  He  could  not 
face  the  town,  because  then  you  see  the  tale 
would  get  about.  We  should  see  to  it  that  he  was 
a  laughing  stock.  Besides,  if  as  I  said  discretion 
were  used  in  madame 's  leaving  the  boat,  he 
would  know  nothing  until  the  steamer  was  out  at 
sea  ...  on  the  way  to  Europe,  with  Lisbon  as  the 
first  stop.  If  madame  will  work  with  us,  we  can 
easily  arrange  all  things;  a  reason  for  her  family, 
for  going  to  Para,  and  everything  for  her  com- 
fort on  board  ship,  where,  of  course,  the  person 
would  be  more  than  willing  to  agree  with 
madame 's  discretions. ' ' 

She  studied  the  toe  of  her  white  slipper,  and 
said  in  a  moment,  "I  am  very  tired.  Please  leave 
me.  I  have  much  to  do  .  .  .  the  theatre  ..." 

He  stood  up  at  once,  but  watched  her  face  with 
anxiety, 


BLACK  GOLD  205 

*'May  I  send  a  note — discreetly— to-morrow, 
asking  for  madame's  reply  T' 

*'0h,  all  these  discretions!"  she  smiled.  **Ah, 
senhor,  you  are  the  enemy  of  this  man.  How  do  I 
know  that  things  are  as  you  say?" 

He  was  agitated,  roused  to  immediate  protests. 
* 'Madame,  I  can  prove  this  to  you  without 
trouble.  Would  you  take  the  word  of  Custodio 
de  Freitas  f  You  know  him  better  than  you  know 
me.  Yes?  Very  well.  Custodio  and  I  went  to 
school  together  many  years  before  Manaos  had 
any  politics,  and  although  we  are  to-day  on  oppo- 
site sides,  we  are  still  good  friends.  I  assure  you 
that  he  too  thinks  that  the  person  we  speak  of  has 
gone  too  far,  that  he  is  a  too  disturbing  element. 
It  is  Custodio 's  group  who  want  him  to  go  to 
Paris  as  much  as  we  do.  They  dislike  extremes. 
Will  you  ask  him?" 

'Terhaps.  I  don't  know." 

Domingos  Souza  pere  took  a  resolution.  As  he 
opened  the  door  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  the  de- 
parting lady,  '*The  sum  I  mentioned  will  be 
placed  to  madame  's  credit  to-morrow. ' ' 

She  made  no  response,  but  climbed  the  stairs. 
As  she  reached  the  top  Margarita  met  her.  *'0h, 
Francie,  have  you  heard  about  Giulia?  Where 
have  you  been  all  the  afternoon?" 

*' Talking  politics.  You  would  not  understand," 
said  Francina  mechanically  and  with  a  faint 
smile. 


XVI 

THE  next  few  days  passed  like  a  nightmare 
to  the  opera  company.  They  gave  *  *  Rigoletto ' ' 
on  a  night  of  oppressive  and  noisome  heat,  when 
malaria  hung  almost  visibly  in  the  airless  streets. 
The  going  down  of  the  sun  seemed  to  release 
inimical  vapors,  and  from  the  pavements  the  con- 
centrated heat  of  noon  rose  in  suffocating  waves, 
so  that  the  night  was  hotter  than  the  day.  In 
the  theatre,  audience  and  performers  candidly 
wiped  perspiring  faces  and  necks,  and  although 
bouquets  stood  like  thickets  at  the  doors  of  tho 
girls'  dressing  rooms,  they  were  too  much  re- 
duced in  spirit  to  accept  these  trophies  with 
coquetry.  It  needed  at  least  a  diamond  ring, 
anathema  to  Salvatore,  but  not  impossible  now 
that  he  lay  low,  to  win  a  smile  from  a  maiden. 

A  day  or  two  after  Salvatore 's  collapse,  one  of 
the  Italian  girls,  a  tiny  creature  with  an  exquisite 
figure,  took  to  her  bed  with  sighs  and  lamenta- 
tions that  she  should  have  left  her  beloved  Rome 
to  die  of  horrible  diseases  at  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  The  assiduous  doctor  pronounced  nothing 
to  be  the  matter  with  her,  but  she  refused  to  get 
up.  With  Beatriz  and  Graziela  gone,  this  left  but 
one  maiden  of  the  chorus,  a  charming  but  voice- 
less little  gypsy,  for  the  eyes  of  Manaos. 

Salvatore,  fevered  and  fretting,  alternated 
between  days  of  raging  temperature,  when  he 
became  more  than  half  light-headed  and  cursed 

206 


BLACK  GOLD  207 

his  transitory  neighbor,  and  others  of  shivering 
subjection,  when  he  sat,  a  bleached  and  haggard 
figure,  by  his  balcony.  He  learnt  the  trick  of 
tying  a  towel  round  his  neck  and  right  wrist  to 
steady  a  shaking  hand,  and  drank  champagne  on 
the  advice  of  his  Swiss  friend  of  the  boat.  When 
it  became  plain  that' he  could  not  summon  suffi- 
cient vitality  to  shake  oif  the  fever,  it  was  decided 
that  he  should  go  to  Para,  to  meet  the  incoming 
Italian  boat,  old  fever  experts  of  the  upper  river 
declaring  that  the  recurrent  seizures  would  leave 
him  as  soon  as  he  was  on  the  water,  and  that  he 
would  return  cured.  He  was  carried  aboard  a 
Para-bound  steamer  with  the  young  tenor  to  look 
after  him. 

The  remnants  of  the  company  held  council  and 
arranged  to  give  on  the  following  night,  instead 
of  opera,  a  musical  evening  that  would  be  a  guar- 
antee of  good  faith  to  Manaos.  Some  songs,  a 
violin  obligato  or  two,  and  a  couple  of  scenes 
demanding  only  two  or  three  voices.  Laroche 
depended  largely  upon  the  kindliness  of  the 
Amazon  audience,  the  most  receptive  on  earth. 

But  upon  the  morning  of  that  day,  which  co- 
incided with  that  of  the  Manaos  election,  Mar- 
garita opened  her  eyes  and  looked  straight  into 
those  of  her  sister,  standing  with  a  pale  and  seri- 
ous face  beside  her  bed,  a  pink  wrapper  thrown 
over  her  nightdress. 

''Francie!  Is  anything  the  matter?  Is  it  lateT' 

'*No,  no!  It's  very  early,"  Francina  said  im- 
patiently. She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  Mar- 
garita's bed  and  folded  her  hands  together  in  her 
lap.  ^*' Margarita,  I  am  going  to  take  the  boat  for 
Para  that  leaves  this  morning."  She  delivered 
this  in  a  cool,  dry  voice,  looking  full  at  her  sister, 


208  BLACK  GOLD 

who  stared  in  astonishment  and  made  no 
response.  In  a  moment  Francina  went  on  more 
airily: 

''You'll  be  all  right  here.  You  can  look  after 
yourself '' 

*'0f  course!  You  won't  be  gone  long!"  cried 
Margarita,  suddenly  seeing  an  explanation.  ''Oh, 
poor  Francie,  you  are  worried  to  death  about  Sal- 
vatore!"  She  sat  up,  her  little  nightdress  slip- 
ping from  her  shoulder,  her  young  face  flushed 
with  sympathy.  Francina  did  not  reply  to  this, 
but  folded  her  hands  closer  and  seemed  to  with- 
draw herself  almost  imperceptibly;  she  looked 
down  at  her  slippered  feet  and  murmured;  "Of 
course  ..." 

"How  long  will  you  be  gone?  Not  much  more 
than  a  week,  if  Salvie's  fever  is  better,  and  the 
chorus  arrives  all  right  on  the  Orlando  V^  Fran- 
cina opened  her  lips  and  shut  them  again  with- 
out speaking.  A  knock  sounded,  the  door  opened, 
and  Feliciano  brought  in  coffee,  his  dark  face 
beaming,  his  hair  a  mop  of  black  curls.  Taking 
her  cup,  Margarita  was  suddenly  struck  with  a 
terrifying  thought:  "Francie!  How  on  earth  can 
I  sing  without  you!  And  what  in  the  world  will 
poor  Jean  Laroche  do  I" 

Francie  shrugged  her  shoulders;  her  face 
cleared,  and  she  dismissed  the  shadow  that  had 
hung  about  her.  "He  could  arrange  some  other 
things,"  she  said  lightly.  "But  why  should  you 
sing  if  you  don't  want  to?  Let  them  call  it  off  if 
you're  frightened." 

"We've  promised, "  Margarita  cried,  protesting. 

"Margie  darling,  do  remember  that  there  are 
much  more  important  things  in  the  world  than 
singing — than  singing  because  you've  promised 


BLACK  GOLD  209 

to."  She  poured  hot  milk  into  the  aromatic  black 
coffee  and  drank  little  sips  daintily.  '*  Margie, 
you  are  going  to  marry  Affonso,  aren't  you"?" 

Margarita  langhed  out  loud.  *'0h!  Must  I 
marry  someone?'' 

**Yes,  of  course  you  must,  sooner  or  later.  Yon 
have  to  think  of  the  future,  dear  child.  You  are 
not  dreaming  of  earning  your  living — ^by  singing, 
are  you?  Perhaps,  with  luck,  you  might  make 
thirty  shillings  a  week  ...  I  know  all  about  that! 
These  last  four  years!"  She  flushed:  her  eyes 
brooded. 

^^  Margie,  being  poor,  wretchedly  poor,  when 
other  people  have  got  things!  I  suppose  it 
wouldn't  hurt  half  so  much  if  they  hadn't.  I 
don't  believe  you  see  them,  now,  but  you  would 
someday.  .  .  .  You  don 't  want  to  go  back  to  San- 
soe  and  typ^  out  father's  books  for  him,  do  you?" 

^'Dear  Sansoe!"  murmured  Margarita,  pouring 
sugar  on  her  toasted  roll. 

Francina  looked  at  her  sister's  face  with  a 
queer  smile  and  went  on  speaking  a  little  im- 
patiently: *'Yes,  yes,  I  know  you  like  it — but 
for  years  and  years  and  years?  How  could  you 
stand  it?  Don't  think  of  it,  dear.  You  are  very 
pretty,  really  quite  as  pretty  as  I  am,  and  the 
best  thing  you  can  do  in  order  to — to  realize  on 
your  assets,  you  see,  is  to  marry  someone,  and 
now,  while  you  have  the  chance,  someone  with 
lots  of  money." 

Margarita  did  not  answer,  and  Francina,  look- 
ing at  her  steadily,  delivered  her  creed  evenly 
and  drily: 

*^Do  you  remember  what  I  said  to  you  once — 
that  it  was  only  worth  while  for  a  woman  to  be 
a  woman?   I  mean  that  from  the  bottom  of  my 


210  BLACK  GOLD 

heart.  And  to  be  a  woman,  really  to  get  all  there 
is  out  of  it,  to  live  without  being  limited  and  en- 
chained, you  have  to  be  indispensable  to  a  first- 
class  kind  of  man.  You  have  to  choose  carefully 
— class  and  ability,  I  mean;  but  not  to  permit 
yourself  any  silly  fancies.  They  are  only  fancies, 
ideas  that  women  invent  themselves,  when  they 
think  they  like  one  man  better  than  another,  be- 
cause all  men  are  alike  really  as  far  as  women  are 
concerned.  They  are  all  children  .  .  .  but  they 
have  got  the  keys.  Never  have  fancies  about 
them,  Margarita!  It  doesn't  matter  a  bit  about 
loving  a  man.  The  only  important  thing  is  that 
he  should  love  you." 

She  added  after  a  moment's  pause,  in  a  lighter 
voice:  **Affonso  is  a  very  good  sort  indeed.  He 
has  been  mad  about  you  for  ever  so  long.  I  should 
advise  you  to  marry  him  at  once,  dear.'' 

Margarita,  rather  inclined  to  tears  although  she 
did  not  know  why,  said  in  a  little  voice:  **I  hadn't 
thought  about  it,  Francie."  And  then,  instantly 
feeling  like  a  baby,  added  hastily:  ** Alfonso  is 
an  awfully  good  sort.  I  am  ever  so  fond  of  him. 
But  after  all  we  are  foreigners  to  each  other " 

Francina  laughed.  **As  if  our  family  hadn't 
always  run  to  foreign  alliances!  Eeligion  is  much 
more  of  a  bone  of  contention  than  race,  my  dear, 
and  at  least  you  and  I  were  baptized  good  Catho- 
lics, even  if  we  are  rather  heathen." 

As  she  leaned  forward  to  take  a  spoonful  of 
soft  sugar  from  the  bowl,  her  little  pink  negligee 
fell  open  and  something  that  glittered  swung 
forward.  To  Margarita's  exclamation:  '^Oh, 
Francie,  how  pretty !  Are  they  diamonds  ? — do  let 
me  look!"  her  first  instinct  was  a  quick  gesture 
to  close  the  front  of  her  wrapper,  but  she  changed 


BLACK  GOLD  211 

her  mind  rapidly  and  lifted  the  long  and  spark- 
ling chain,  a  bright  stream  that  ran  between  her 
fingers. 

'*Yes.  They  are  diamonds.''  She  added  with  a 
light  laugh  as  she  rose: 

^*I  bought  them  yesterday.''  And  went  out  of 
the  room. 

Margarita  took  her  shower  bath,  dressed  hur- 
riedly in  pale  muslins,  went  to  Francina's  room, 
and  found  her  packing  with  Feliciano's  courtly 
assistance. 

**You  are  not  going  to  take  your  big  trunk, 
Francief  For  those  few  days?" 

**I  don't  know  if  it  will  be  only  a  few  days," 
she  returned  impatiently.  Margarita  said  no 
other  word  of  inquiry,  helped  her,  and  presently 
they  drove  down  to  the  floating  dock.  Francina 
sat  back  in  a  corner  of  the-carriage,  silent,  smiling 
mechanically  at  the  frequent  salutes  that  greeted 
them,  but  hardly  glancing  at  the  streets.  Arrived 
at  the  ship's  side,  she  refused  to  let  Margarita  go 
aboard,  kissed  her  hurriedly,  told  her  to  keep  out 
of  the  already  ferocious  sun,  to  go  back  to  the 
hotel  and  not  to  worry. 

**You  take  life  too  seriously  about  little  things, 
dearest,  and  not  half  seriously  enough  about  im- 
portant things,  like  your  complexion,"  she  told 
her  sister,  laughingly,  her  spirits  suddenly  recov- 
ered. '^Good-by,  darling!" 

Margarita  drove  back  with  a  sense  of  desola- 
tion that  she  told  herself  was  cowardly.  But  Sal- 
vatore  and  Francina  had  gone  to  Para,  and  she 
t  had  to  encounter  Affonso,  who  had  suddenly  ac- 
I  quired  the  proportions  of  an  engulfing  sort  of 
I  problem,  and  as  to  John  Ware — oh,  no!  she 
I        wasn't  going  to  think  about  John  Ware,  she  said, 


212  BLACK  GOLD 

when  stricken  with  the  quick  memory  of  a  fair 
head  that  shone  in  the  lamplight,  and  a  voice  that 
had  said,  so  hypocritically,  to  her:  **If — ^yon  want 
anything — will  you  call  me  ? ' '  She  put  this  aside, 
and  faced  the  thought  of  the  evening,  when  she 
had  to  sing,  without  Francina. 

Just  when  she  was  about  to  enter  the  hotel 
door,  she  caught  sight  of  a  man  who  trotted  along 
the  middle  of  the  white-hot  road,  a  net  of  char- 
coal and  a  bunch  of  half-ripe  bananas  on  his 
bent  back.  Vicente !  She  hailed  him  as  if  he  were 
an  old  and  beloved  friend,  her  face  alight  with 
smiles. 

*^Bom  dia,  Vicente!  Did  yon  come  in  to  vote? 
It  is  the  day  of  election,  nao  eT'  She  waved  him 
into  the  bare  reception  room  on  the  left  of  the 
door  with  its  double  rows  of  cane  rocking-chairs, 
sat  down  and  beamed  upon  the  wooden-faced 
caboclo,  airing  her  halting  Portuguese  while  he 
replied  in  fragmentary  English. 

No,  he  answered  seriously,  he  took  no  interest 
in  the  election.  Of  what  use?  It  made  no  differ- 
ence to  men  like  himself.  A  politica  was  the  busi- 
ness of  those  born  to  it.  .  .  .  He  had  come  to  get 
stores  for  the  patrao. 

When  was  he  returning?  Not  until  to-morrow 
morning.  He  had  had  to  buy  some  things  that 
would  not  be  ready  until  then.  Did  the  senhora 
wish  to  send  any  message?  Oh,  did  she?  It  sud- 
denly occurred  to  Margarita  that  she  would,  and 
then  that  never,  never  could  she — and  it  was 
chiefly  for  the  sake  of  saying  something  kindly 
in  reply  that  she  answered:  ** Perhaps.  If  I  did, 
where  should  I  find  you?*'  The  childish  idea 
crossed  her  mind  that  she  would  send  John's  tie 
back  to  him. 


BLACK  GOLD  213 

Vicente  was  answering  her  gravely:  ''During 
the  day  I  am  much  in  the  town  or  in  my  house  on 
the  line  of  the  Flores  bond;  at  night  I  sleep  in  the 
Boto  very  far  up  the  igarape,  where  the  patrao 
keeps  it  always." 

**Yes,  yes,  I  remember.''  She  saw  before  her 
the  little  sandy  path  shadowed  with  dark  trees 
and  patterned  with  sunlight,  and  the  eyes  of  John 
Ware,  very  blue  and  kind  and  comradely. 

As  Vicente  stood,  hat  in  hand,  bowing  himself 
away,  a  crash  of  bells  suddenly  smote  the  air,  a 
peal  that  clanged  a  loud  challenge.  At  that  sound, 
a  group  of  men,  sitting  in  the  sunny  restaurant 
just  across  the  open  corridor,  sprang  to  their 
feet,  cried  out  with  a  smother  of  Portuguese  oaths 
and  exclamations,  and  ran  to  the  door.  Margarita 
jumped  up  and  ran  too,  looking  from  the  thresh- 
old into  the  wide  square  and  seeing  the  figures 
of  men  appear  at  doorways ;  those  who  were  walk- 
ing in  the  road  stopped  as  if  electrified,  exclaim- 
ing and  calling  out  to  each  other.  As  if  by  magic, 
groups  sprang  into  excited  life  in  that  blazing 
space,  everyone  with  an  air  of  wonder  or  extreme 
anger. 

*^What  is  the  matter?"  the  girl  insisted  in  the 
ear  of  the  sleek  hotel  manager,  who  also  came  to 
the  door,  looking  quickly  from  group  to  group, 
his  lips  shut.  He  answered  her  with  a  polite  bow 
and  a  shrug;  he  didn't  know — he  was  a  forastciro, 
a  stranger  here,  and  their  politics  were  nothing 
to  him.  The  bells?  Why,  of  course,  those  were  the 
noon  bells,  yes,  but  it  was  only  a  few  minutes 
after  ten  o'clock.  ...  It  was  all  some  of  their 
politics,  and  the  senhora  would  notice  that  there 
was  not  a  single  man  of  the  governor's  party  to 
be  seen. 


214  BLACK  GOJjD 

Having  said  this  mncli,  he  shut  his  lips  tight 
again  as  if  fearing  that  he  had  already  said  too 
much,  bowed  again  and  hastily  retreated  to  his 
inner  fastnesses.  A  second  or  two  later  a  man  in 
white,  his  face  distorted  with  fury,  his  eyes  burn- 
ing and  his  forehead  covered  with  perspiration, 
dashed  round  the  corner  and  ran  towards  the  gov- 
ernor's  palace.  He  seemed  to  see  no  one,  pushing 
aside  one  and  another  who  tried  to  stop  and  ques- 
tion him  as  if  he  were  blind.  His  teeth  showed 
in  a  kind  of  furious  grin.  As  he  passed  the  hotel 
a  tall,  heavy  man  cried  out  to  him:  **Jose!  que 
tem,  men  caro?  Jose!''  and  caught  him  with 
strong  arms.  The  man,  halted,  made  no  resist- 
ance, but  stood  staring  and  trembling,  his  breath 
coming  in  sobs.  As  the  crowd  closed  about  him 
he  seemed  to  recover  himself  a  little,  wiped  his 
face  with  his  sleeve,  and  screamed:  **They  have 
dared!  The  robbers!  The  traitors!  Thieves! 
Plunderers!  Creatures  without  shame!  Ai,  men 
have  been  killed  for  less  than  this!" 

He  stopped  and  panted,  and  then  yelled  again 
in  his  hoarse,  thin  voice : 

**They  shut  the  door  in  my  face!  They  have  the 
courage,  the  thieves!  It  is  twelve  o'clock  because 
they  say  it  is,  they  and  their  pack  of  assassins 
and  bandits!  In  my  face!  It 's  twelve  o 'clock !  Oh, 
the  insolents!" 

The  men  about  him  exchanged  glances.  There 
was  dead  silence  and  then  some  one  laughed,  a 
high  and  cackling  laugh  that  was  presently 
echoed  from  the  group.  The  big  man,  keeping  a 
clutch  upon  Jose,  dragged  him  into  the  shade  of 
the  restaurant:  ''Come  and  drink  something.  It 
is  no  time  to  behave  like  idiots.  Patience!  Of 
what  use?"    Several  of  the  men  followed  them 


BLACK  GOLD  215 

inside,  and  one  thickset,  pale-faced  Portuguese, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  remarked  in  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  reach  Margarita:  **How  much  differ- 
ence does  it  make  to  us  1  What  matters  the  name 
of  the  man  who  holds  the  sceptre,  or  how  he  gets 
it?  They  all  steal.  Why  not?  There  is  enough 
for  all/' 

Someone  replied  to  him  bitterly:  "Certainly, 
if  they  had  any  reasonableness  at  all  in  their 
stealing.  But  they  have  no  limits.  Ah,  we  have 
never  had  any  honest  officials  since  the  empire, 
and  now  who  expects  it?  But  after  all  there  are 
limits.  There  is  some  decency  to  be  observed.'' 

A  thin  yellow-faced  man  turned  upon  hearing 
this:  "Yes,  yes,  this,  is  really  too  gross.  You 
know,  I  am  an  Amazonense,  and  this  wounds  my 
pride  as  a  citizen.  Naturally,  foreigners  don't 
care  so  much."  He  glowered  at  the  Portuguese. 
Someone  else  cried  out  from  the  inner  room: 
"Evaristo  had  better  be  careful!  It's  all  his  do- 
ing. Pereira  is  too  stupid  for  such  an  idea  .  .  ." 
but  now  the  hotel  manager  appeared  and  cried 
out:  "Senhores!  No  names,  please!  A  little  dis- 
cretion!" And  the  restaurant  subsided  to  groups 
from  which  whispers  and  exclamations  rose 
sullenly. 

Margarita  ran  up  to  her  room  and  found  Bianca 
hanging  over  the  balcony  looking  down  at  the 
square  where  knots  of  men  stood  gesticulating, 
their  eyes  turned  towards  the  corner  where  the 
palace  of  the  governor  stood.  Margarita  said  to 
her:  "It's  something  about  politics,"  and  this 
was  quite  satisfactory  to  Bianca  who  declared 
with  an  air  of  national  pride:  "In  Italy,  if  men 
got  as  angry  as  that,  there 'd  be  some  knifing." 
She  knew  already  of  Francina's  departure  made 


216  BLACK  GOLD 

no  comment,  and  looked  with  veiled  eyes  npon 
Margarita  as  the  girl  talked  about  what  they 
would  do  until  Salvatore  and  Francie  came  back. 
They  went  to  look  for  Laroche,  encountered  him 
in  the  corridor  seeking  for  them,  and  after  a  brief 
and  almost  tearful  discussion,  went  with  him  into 
the  white-hot  streets,  climbing  the  slope  of  the 
avenue  dedicated  to  Eduardo  Eibeiro  to  the  thea- 
tre, glittering  in  the  sunlight  against  the  relent- 
less blue  of  the  sky.  At  the  little  tables  set  on  the 
pavement  outside  the  cafe  on  the  left,  as  they 
began  to  ascend  the  avenue,  there  were  clusters 
of  men  like  bees,  thickly  grouped,  buzzing  with 
talk,  their  eyes  glancing  about  them, 

Laroche  said  to  the  girls,  when  they  had  passed 
with  courteous  salutations,  that  he  had  a  little 
anxiety:  the  town  seemed  to  be  perturbed.  He 
had  been  at  the  Bolsa  Universal  near  the  bond 
station  when  the  cathedral  bells  were  rung,  and 
he'd  thought  for  a  minute  that  there  was  going  to 
be  a  riot.  The  people  there  had  thrown  chairs 
and  things  about  and  said  a  great  deal — what  had 
happened?  Oh,  didn't  they  understand?  He 
looked  on  them  with  the  laughing  superiority  of 
the  male  who  has  a  flair  for  politics.  *'The  gov- 
ernor's party  didn't  intend  that  anybody  should 
vote  except  themselves,  so  they  opened  the  poll- 
ing places  at  ten  o'clock,  with  all  their  friends 
massed  round  the  doors  and  rushing  in  and  vot- 
ing. When  most  of  their  party  had  voted,  and 
the  opposition  was  beginning  to  think  it  was  their 
turn,  they  rang  the  bells  for  twelve  o'clock  and 
closed  the  polls.  They  say  there  was  just  one  op- 
position vote  registered.  Crude,  wasn't  it?  Amus- 
ing, rather;  the  baldest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,  but 
awfully  childish  ..." 


BLACK  GOLD  217 

''What  will  happen?  I  wonder:  I  think  it's  a 
toss-np  whether  Manaos  will  show  fight  about  it, 
or  whether  they  will  conclude — the  ordinary  busi- 
ness people,  I  mean — that  it  is  a  tug  of  war  be- 
tween rival  politicians  and  no  particular  concern 
of  anybody  else's.  If  the  commerciantes  have 
any  reason  for  taking  sides,  then  there  might  be 
trouble.    Otherwise  nobody  cares  very  much." 

They  entered  the  great  theatre  by  a  side  door, 
and  as  he  stood  aside  for  the  girls  to  enter  La- 
roche  ended  with  a  loud  sigh:  ''I  don't  care  what 
they  do!  So  long  as  we  can  get  through  without 
a  disaster,  dear  ladies,  and  keep  things  going  till 
the  boss  gets  back  with  his  armful  of  new  beau- 
ties. Can  you  sing  the  mad  song  out  of  'Lucia,' 
Mademoiselle  Margarita  ? ' ' 

''I  don't  want  to,"  she  protested.  "You  know 
I'll  do  anything  for  you  Jean,  but  .  .  .  Let  me  try 
Ritorna  vincitor:  I  always  get  on  with  the  'Tosca' 
music  so  comfortably.  .  .  ."  At  that  moment 
Custodio  came  in,  wiping  his  forehead  and  apolo- 
gizing; he  looked  quite  yellow,  his  eyes  smoulder- 
ing in  his  head. 

*'Yes,  I  have  a  touch  of  fever,"  he  said  in  reply 
to  the  girls'  questions.  "No  wonder!  These  poli- 
tics! I  am  in  it,  I  can't  say  anything,  but  I  think 
Evaristo  has  gone  too  far.  However,  what  I  came 
in  for — I  saw  you  from  the  top  of  the  street — 
was  to  consult  about  to-night's  performance.  I  am 
a  little  afraid  of  a  gathering  like  this,  a  crowd, 
at  such  a  moment.  My  opinion  is  that  it  would 
be  wiser  to  put  it  off.  I  am  going  to  see  Evaristo 
now — will  you  permit  me  to  send  you  a  message 
a  little  later?" 

"It  would  be  a  blessed  relief,"  Laroche 
thought,  but  decided  to  run  over  some  songs,  in 


218  BLACK  GOLD 

case  the  theatre  was  opened  before  Salvatore 
came  back.  He  took  Margarita,  very  nervous, 
through  half  a  dozen  arias  from  their  repertoire, 
remaining  unsatisfied;  heard  Bianca  with  rather 
more  content,  sang  his  own  song,  Dio  possente, 
Bio  d'amor,  interjecting  speculations  as  to  where 
Valentine's  costume  could  possibly  be,  and  sighed 
over  a  duet  or  two.  Then  he  suddenly  had  a  bril- 
liant idea. 

*'Miss  Margarita,  an  inspiration!  You  shan't 
sing  these  classic  things  at  all!  You  are  not  suffi- 
ciently composed!  I  fear  to  trust  you!  But  be 
happy — here's  something  you  could  do  without 
any  practicing  at  all.  Your  little  French  songs, 
the  Bergerettes.*' 

'*0h,  yes!  Of  course!  They  all  like  French, 
don't  they!  All  right,  let  me  sing  Jeanne  aime  joli 
Jean,  What  a  good  idea!  What  else?  Bergere 
legere  and  that  little  Jeunes  fillettes." 

As  she  began  to  sing,  a  note  came  in  by  the 
hand  of  a  messenger.  Custodio  wrote  hastily  to 
say  that  Evaristo  wished  the  concert  to  take 
place,  that  he  was  quite  emphatic  about  it.  Cus- 
todio himself  was  neither  well  nor  pleased,  but 
he  placed  himself,  his  car,  and  all  he  had  at  the 
disposition  of  the  ladies. 

They  went  on  practicing  and  arranging,  the 
members  of  the  orchestra  now  coming  in.  Bianca, 
always  good-tempered,  agreed  to  sing  a  duet  with 
Laroche  and  the  popular  Dormi  pure,  dor  mi 
felice,  and  the  first  violin  compromised  on  a 
couple  of  items.  **The  whole  thing  will  be  rather 
scratch,  my  dears,  but  they  know  we  are  doing 
our  best,  and  they  are  awfully  decent,"  Laroche 
said  as  they  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

Here  they  found  a  letter  from  Affonso.  After 


BLACK  GOLD  219 

the  performance  that  night,  Evaristo  and  he  were 
giving  a  supper,  if  they  would  all  come?  Laroche 
was  pleased.  '^That  shows  they  are  sure  the  polit- 
ical atmosphere  is  going  to  clear.  Evaristo 
knows  what  he's  about.  I  like  his  nerve/'  he 
decided.  *^Now,  ladies,  please  go  and  sleep. 
Everything  depends  on  you." 

Indefatigable,  he  swallowed  a  hasty  lunch  and 
rushed  back  to  the  theatre,  while  Bianca  did  as 
he  told  her,  and  Margarita  lay  on  her  bed  watch- 
ing the  slow  shifting  of  the  blue  shadows  on  the 
white  walls. 


xvn 

BY  the  light  of  one  swinging  electric  bulb  and 
four  candles  Margarita  dressed  herself  care- 
fully for  the  theatre.  The  heat  hung  oppressively 
in  the  air,  held  close  to  the  sweating  earth  by 
heavy  clouds,  and  the  strange  smell  of  Manaos, 
the  rank,  all-pervading  smell  of  rubber,  came  in  at 
the  open  balconies. 

In  a  state  of  excitement  and  suspense,  she  chose 
her  prettiest  frock  of  satin  and  pale  chiffon,  and 
with  trembling  hands  arranged  her  hair  high 
upon  her  little  head.  She  seemed  to  have  no 
thoughts  left  for  Francina  or  for  Salvatore:  she 
did  not  think  of  Sansoe  or  even  of  Manaos,  but 
moved  breathlessly  with  the  whole  of  her  atten- 
tion fixed  upon  the  ordeal  that  lay  before  her,  the 
first  genuine  test  of  her  quality.  Some  spark  of 
the  curious  exaltation  that  made  so  many  people 
here  forget  any  other  condition  or  plane  than 
that  prevailing  in  Manaos  had  fired  her,  perhaps. 
She  walked  with  a  feeling  that  she  did  not  touch 
the  floor,  her  eyes  rapt  as  she  already  stood  in 
imagination  before  the  faces  that  would,  she  was 
certain,  receive  her  with  smiles.  She  felt  deli- 
ciously  confident,  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  mo- 
ment when  she  would  step  upon  the  lighted  stage, 
a  sea  of  people  rising  before  her. 

Bianca  entered  in  a  whirlwind  of  little  cries 
and  pink  skirts. 

''Carissima,  here  is  a  little  box  for  you  and  such 
quantities  of  beautiful  flowers!  Ah,  open  thou  the 

220 


BLACK  GOLD  221 

box!  Idle  with  impatience!  .  .  .  Oh,  may  I?  Are 
you  sure?  I  would  not  be  indiscreet.  .  .  .  Oh,  most 
lovely!  See,  see!" 

She  ended  on  a  little  shriek  as  she  tore  some- 
thing from  its  velvet  nest  and  swung  it  forward 
on  her  outstretched  hand.  Margarita  turned  and 
looked,  dazzled,  upon  a  string  of  lustrous  pearls, 
their  satin  orient  glowing  for  all  their  milky 
whiteness. 

''There  is  a  little  note.'^ 

''Read  it  to  me.'' 

Bianca  brandished  the  folded  paper,  shaking 
her  head.  Margarita  caught  it  and  glanced  at  the 
carefully  drawn  letters. 

''These  you  cannot  refuse,''  the  note  declared. 
"For  you  do  not  know  who  sends  them.  But 
think,  if  you  please,  that  they  come  from  no  pre- 
sumptuous man  but  from  the  Manaos  that  loves 
your  enchanting  presence." 

As  she  read  she  felt  something  cool  against  her 
neck  and  looking  up  to  the  mirror  saw  the  fingers 
of  Bianca  fastening  the  pearls'  clasp.  She  gasped 
at  their  beauty.  Their  pale  sheen  took  on  a  warm 
and  opalescent  glow  from  her  transparent  skin. 
She  let  them  lie,  the  color  rising  in  her  cheeks 
as  she  saw  their  completion  of  the  picture  she 
made,  with  their  strange  lustre  of  the  thing  that 
has  had  life  in  it  and  can  still  reflect  life.  She  was 
quite^  oblivious  of  Salvatore  and  his  growled 
warnings,  and,  entranced,  could  scarcely  bear  to 
take  her  eyes  from  her  own  reflection.  Only  the^ 
palpitating  thought  of  her  audience  drew  her  to 
the  wings,  full  of  people,  invading  the  precincts, 
bold  in  the  absence  of  the  dragon  Salvatore.  She 
heard  as  if  in  a  dream  their  greetings  and  excla- 
mations, the  hurried  directions  of  Laroche,  took 


222  BLACK  GOLD 

the  kiss  of  Bianca  without  having  the  volition  to 
return  it. 

The  theatre  was  packed.  There  were  not  many 
women,  but  the  few  who  were  there  wore  such 
dazzling  jewels  that  flashes  struck  across  the 
theatre;  one  young  girl  waved  a  languid  hand 
from  her  box,  covered  with  diamonds — Margarita 
recognized  Giulia,  late  of  the  chorus;  and  surely 
there,  near  by,  was  the  recalcitrant  Beatriz 
Sforzi.  A  dark,  stout  man  lurked  at  her  shoulder. 
All  the  rest  seemed  to  be  a  sea  of  faces.  The  gov- 
ernor's box  was  empty  as  yet.  Her  eyes  were 
suddenly  caught  by  the  row  of  medallion  por- 
traits that  had  always  held  Francina's  fancy;  she 
decided  that  she  would  sing  to  them.  If  she  could 
only  make  them  smile  at  her!  She  laughed, 
quivering  with  excitement. 

When,  ten  minutes  later,  she  came  on  for  her 
first  song,  she  heard  no  applause,  saw  nothing. 
She  stood  flushed,  lovely,  a  little  slender  figure 
on  the  stage.  Her  light  voice,  very  clear  and 
sweet,  penetrated  easily: 

'^Bergere  legere,  je  crains  tes  appas!  Ton  ame 
s'enflame,  mais  tu  n'aimes  pas!"  she  sent  her 
notes  floating,  clear  as  a  bird's. 

As  she  sang  the  last  line,  her  eyes  encountered 
those  of  Evaristo,  leaning  from  the  corner  of  his 
box.  Affonso  beamed  and  applauded  frantically 
at  his  side. 

As  she  walked  off  the  stage,  still  almost  in  a 
dream,  Laroche  caught  her  arm,  demanding  in  a 
desperate  whisper  that  she  should  sing  again  at 
once.  She  went  back  and  gave  Chantons  les 
amours  de  Jean  with  a  mist  before  her  eyes,  over- 
come and  trembling  with  the  sound  of  applause. 
It  was  not  until  she  went  back  to  her  dressing 


BLACK  GOLD  223 

room  and  let  the  maid  powder  and  fan  her  that 
she  recovered  her  full  sense  of  reality;  but  when 
she  returned  after  half  an  hour  to  sing  again  she 
was  able  to  look  at  the  audience  and  to  pick  out 
coolly  other  faces  that  she  knew.  Affonso,  behind 
Evaristo,  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  face.  She 
smiled  at  them  both  delightedly,  now  quite  self- 
possessed,  and  continued  to  look  at  them  from 
time  to  time  as  she  sang. 

**Dans  le  bel  age,  prenez  un  ami!  S'il  est  vol- 
age,    rendez-le    lui!     Jeune   fillette,    profitez    du 

temps "  She  ran  from  the  stage  with  her  arms 

full  of  flowers,  and  cried  out  to  Laroche  like  a 
child,  ''They  liked  me,  didn't  they!"  He  looked 
at  her  almost  with  tears,  nodding,  and  she  gave 
her  hand  to  Affonso  to  be  kissed  when  he  waylaid 
her  in  the  corridor  near  her  dressing  room. 

''Thank  you  for  your  roses!"  she  laughed,  radi- 
ant, her  eyes  shining  above  the  flowers.  "They 
say  diamonds  are  easier  to  get  in  Manaos  than 
roses!" 

"Ah,  because  roses  are  not  luxuries!  They  are 
necessities,  for  adorable  maidens  like  you!"  he 
murmured.  "In  Manaos,  necessities  are  so  much 
rarer  than  luxuries." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  performance  was  over, 
the  last  note  sounded,  and  the  audience  emptying 
from  the  theatre.  Laroche,  observing  them  from 
behind  the  curtain,  thought  that  they  were  long 
in  getting  away:  groups  formed,  and  in  spite  of 
the  laughter  and  gaiety,  he  seemed  to  detect  a 
nervousness,  a  tenseness,  that  he  ascribed  to  the 
political  feeling  of  the  day.  A  trifle  anxious,  he 
watched  the  knots  of  men  as  they  talked  and  ges- 
ticulated, noticing  again  what  he  had  noticed  all 
through  the  evening,  the  dark  looks  cast  at  the 


224  BLACK  GOLD 

box  where  Evaristo  sat.  It  was  not  for  some 
minutes  that  the  deputy  governor  and  his  party 
moved  from  their  places,  apparently  waiting  for 
the  crowd  to  leave  the  theatre.  But  when  Mar- 
garita and  Bianca,  their  light  wraps  about  their 
shoulders  and  their  arms  full  of  flowers,  came 
from  the  dressing  rooms  towards  the  top  of  the 
great  staircase,  they  met  the  politicians,  await- 
ing their  guests.  Custodio  stood  with  his  nephew 
and  the  imperturbable  Evaristo,  talking  rapidly, 
his  small  face  anxious.  The  three  broke  off  the 
discussion  and  hurried  forward  with  renewed 
smiles,  and  Evaristo,  with  more  warmth  than  he 
usually  showed,  gave  the  abrago  to  Laroche  and 
congratulated  the  remnant  of  the  opera  company 
upon  their  gallant  showing. 

As  they  stood  talking  at  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case, awaiting  the  signal  for  their  carriages,  it 
struck  Margarita  as  it  had  struck  Laroche,  that 
many  close  groups  and  knots  of  whispering  men 
stood  together.  She  saw  curious  looks,  furtive 
and  menacing,  sent  upwards  to  her  friends,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  that  these  starers  were  much 
more  occupied  with  the  politicians  than  with  her- 
self. Her  new  vanity  noted  this  with  a  touch  of 
astonishment. 

By  chance,  as  the  crowd  shifted,  the  staircase 
was  suddenly  quite  clear,  and  the  group  at  the 
head  stood  apart  in  a  blaze  of  light,  as  the  people 
in  the  foyer  looked  upwards.  A  murmur  rail 
through  them  like  a  breeze,  and  all  at  once  some 
courageous  spirit  changed  his  muttering  to  a 
shrill  cry: 

*'Ah,  you  band  of  thieves!  You  bandits! 
Thieves  and  cheats!" 

Immediately,  as  if  a  match  had  been  set  to  an 


BLACK  GOLD  ^  225 

explosive,  cries  and  shouts  rose  from  a  dozen 
points  among  the  crowd,  as  the  pale  faces  and 
furious  eyes  stared  upwards.  Margarita,  para- 
lyzed with  surprise,  heard  a  few  yelled  sentences 
and  phrases  emerge  from  the  strange  mass  of 
noise  that  flung  itself  up  in  angry  spasms: 

**You  are  without  shame,  Evaristo!  You  ought 
to  be  killed!  You  are  an  insolent,  defying  us,  mak- 
ing a  mock  of  our  simple  rights!  You  stole  our 
votes  this  morning,  you  are  a  thief.  You  have 
gone  too  far  this  time,  you  low  conspirator!  You 
are  a  traitor  and  a  robber!" 

A  surging  began,  as  men  in  uniform  suddenly 
appeared  and  tried  to  hustle  the  crowd  away. 
But  this  interference  roused  hysterical  anger,  and 
a  quick  interchange  of  scuffling  sent  the  uni- 
formed men  to  the  rear.  From  the  midst  of  the 
struggling  mass  a  slim  figure  disengaged  him- 
self, mounting  two  or  three  of  the  lower  steps  and 
brandishing  a  paper  in  his  hands.  He  shouted 
something  that  she  could  not  hear,  and  hands 
dragged  him  back  into  the  mob  again  as  Evaristo 
stepped  forward. 

With  a  face  composed  as  ever,  the  slight,  in- 
solent smile  upon  his  lips,  the  deputy  governor 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  top  step.  His  eyes  were 
dark  wells,  as  he  coolly  lit  a  cigar  and  blew  the 
smoke  downwards  arrogantly.  Affonso  Guima- 
raes,  much  less  cool  and  with  more  realization  of 
the  exasperation  of  Manaos,  turned  and  spoke 
quickly  to  Laroche: 

''Get  the  ladies  away.  Take  them  back  to  the  re- 
ception room  and  wait  there  for  a  moment  until  I 
come.  At  once,  please.  These  idiots  might  be 
troublesome,  impertinent,  perhaps.  Go,  I  beg 
you." 


226  BLACK  GOLD 

Laroehe  tried  to  obey,  taking  the  two  women 
by  the  arm,  but  Margarita  freed  herself  quickly, 
smiling  and  saying,  *^ Nonsense.  It's  nothing.  We 
can't  run  away.  Leave  me  alone."  She  stepped 
forward,  her  face  flushed  and  her  eyes  brilliant, 
making  a  movement  as  if  to  take  Evaristo's  arm. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  this  was  part  of  the  theat- 
rical scene,  that  one  must  behave  with  spirit  and 
dignity.  Of  course  one  couldn't  run  away! 

Affonso,  glancing  at  her,  gently  pulled  her 
aside,  threw  himself  in  front  of  Evaristo,  and  be- 
gan to  descend  the  stairs,  calling  out  in  his  clear 
and  precise  voice,  *'My  friends  and  enemies,  there 
are  ladies  here!  Quarrel  with  us  at  some  other 
time!  Leave  this  until  to-morrow,  if  you  please." 

The  mob  at  the  stairs'  foot  was  silent  as  he 
came  forward  and  spoke.  For  a  suspended  mo- 
ment it  seemed  as  if  the  show  of  ugly  temper  had 
been  checked  by  this  appeal  to  gallantry.  But 
before  this  hesitation  could  crystallize,  a  dark 
young  man  violently  pushed  his  way  through  to 
the  front,  ran  up  a  couple  of  the  marble  steps,  and 
brandished  his  uplifted  hands  as  he  screamed  out 
in  a  high,  furious  voice : 

*'Ah,  you,  Affonso  GuimaraesI  You  are  as  bad 
as  your  robber  of  a  cousin!  You  are  worse!  You 
are  trying  to  ruin  all  of  us!  You  are  in  a  plot! 
You  are  a  traitor  to  your  country!  You  want  to 
ruin  the  Amazon,  you  and  your  foreign  friend!" 
He  stopped,  gasping  and  shaking  angry  hands, 
and  Margarita  recognized  with  astonishment  the 
delicate  dandy  Domingos  Souza,  transformed 
miraculously  into  an  accusing  fury.  What  was 
the  matter  with  him?  He,  the  stupid,  the 
devoted  .  .  . 

Affonso,  staring  at  him,  stood  still.  They  faced 


BLACK  GOLD  227 

each  other,  a  dozen  steps  between  them.  No  one 
else  stirred.  Then  Affonso  said  sharply,  **What 
do  you  mean?  Domingos,  are  you  mad?'* 

His  secretary,  pale,  trembling,  shouted  at  him: 

''Do  not  dare  to  deny  it!  I  have  watched  you, 
you  conspirator!  I  have  the  proof.  We  all  know 
about  it!  We  are  going  to  put  you  in  jail,  your 
company  promoter  and  you!  Do  you  think  we  are 
a  pack  of  fools  f 

He  turned  dramatically  to  the  throng  pressing 
up  the  stairs  behind  him  and  gesticulated: 

*'Look  at  him,  my  friends!  This  wonderful 
patriot!  He  has  signed  an  agreement  that  will 
make  you  all  beggars  on  the  Amazon!  Our  black 
gold  will  not  be  worth  using  for  ballast.  I  have 
a  copy,  I  know  all  about  it.  We  can  starve  when 
he  gets  his  beautiful  plan  into  operation.  That's 
very  easy.  Are  you  going  to  look  on  like  dead 
fish  while  he  does  it?  What  are  we  all  doing, 
standing  dumb  while  this  man  ruins  us!" 

His  voice  ran  up  and  broke,  and  a  score  of 
voices  rose  in  a  clamor  of  sound. 

At  this  crisis  Alfonso  made  one  mistake  and 
Evaristo  another.  Affonso,  disdainful,  his  face  a 
mask  of  contempt,  made  an  insolent  gesture 
towards  his  accuser. 

''You  were  born  an  idiot,  and  you  will  die  one," 
he  spat  out. 

At  the  same  moment  Evaristo  made  a  quick 
raotion  with  his  right  hand,  as  if  to  reach  inside 
his  coat.  It  was  the  gesture  of  a  man  who  seeks 
a  weapon.  ^  At  once  a  suspended  storm  burst  loose. 
Hoarse  cries  and  a  hail  of  shouted  words  broke 
from  the  crowd;  a  surge  of  hasty  movement 
swayed  groups  of  the  close-packed  men.  A  wave 
of  gesticulating  individuals  broke  from  the  mass. 


228  BLACK  GOLD 

pushed  together  up  the  stairs,  and  a  voice 
screamed,  **You  want  to  shoot  us,  do  you?  As- 
sassin, take  care!  Get  your  new  machine  guns 
and  turn  them  on  us,  will  you?  Ah,  you  can't 
frighten  us!  We  are  ready  for  you!" 

While  this  defiance  was  hurled  upwards,  and 
before  anyone  could  do  more  than  realize  the 
roused  temper  of  the  mob,  a  shot  rang  out  from 
its  midst.  It  went  high,  striking  a  lamp  with  a 
sound  of  tinkling,  as  glass  fell  in  a  tiny  shower 
upon  the  marble  stairs.  Affonso  turned  and 
glanced  quickly  at  the  deputy  governor,  throw- 
ing out  his  arms  as  if  to  shield  him,  but  made  no 
movement  to  defend  himself.  Evaristo,  his  scorn- 
ful face  quite  unmoved,  stepped  down  another 
stair,  and  as  he  did  so  two  more  shots  rang  out  in 
rapid  succession,  apparently  from  opposite  sides 
of  the  foyer. 

Margarita,  staring  fascinated  at  Evaristo 's 
smile,  saw  it  stiffen  suddenly,  saw  him  stagger  as 
if  under  the  impact  of  a  swift  blow.  In  a  moment 
he  recovered,  grasping  the  balustrade  and  stand- 
ing very  erect.  Shouts  came  from  the  group  above 
him,  and  during  a  minute  of  fantastic  nightmare 
there  was  a  sharp  interchange  of  shots,  until 
Affonso,  throwing  his  two  hands  to  his  breast, 
slipped  and  fell  sideways  upon  the  stair.  As  he 
fell,  a  trickle  of  scarlet  blood  began  to  run  from 
the  cuff  of  his  left  sleeve. 

As  if  by  magic,  silence  fell  upon  the  furious 
crowd  below.  Wisps  of  blue  haze  hung  here 
and  there  above  pallid,  staring  faces,  and  after  a 
second  or  two  of  agonized  quiet,  a  man  pushed 
out  from  the  mass  and  ran  up  while  three  others 
rushed  from  above.  In  the  stir,  there  was  a  move- 
ment towards  the  main  door,  as  men  edged  their 


BLACK  GOLD  229 

way  out  into  the  night.  It  was  as  if  a  spell  of 
madness  had  been  broken  by  the  sight  of  blood. 
The  shouting  opposition  dissolved  and  disap- 
peared, while  the  Guimaraes  party,  submerged 
by  the  attack  a  moment  before,  retook  possession 
of  the  scene. 

Margarita,  released  from  the  frozen  astonish- 
ment that  held  her,  dragged  her  arm  from  the 
grasp  of  Bianca,  who  hung  shivering  and  crying, 
and  began  to  run  down  the  stairs.  She  hardly 
looked  at  Affonso,  surrounded  by  stooping  men 
who  lifted  and  carried  him  to  the  foyer,  but  went 
instead  straight  to  Evaristo,  who  still  stood  hold- 
ing the  balustrade,  a  stiff  smile  upon  his  lips,  as 
men  ran  to  him  and  spoke  and  questioned.  ^ 

Quite  close  to  him,  she  saw  him  shake  his  head, 
his  eyes  blank,  and  make  a  movement  as  if  to 
descend  another  step.  Before  his  feet  the  marble 
was  splashed  with  the  blood  from  Affonso's 
wound,  below  a  mass  of  men  bent  over  a  recum- 
bent figure.  There  was  a  bright  glitter  of  uni- 
forms at  the  door  as  a  squad  of  soldiers  pushed  in 
from  the  dark.  She  touched  Evaristo 's  arm 
gently,  saying  to  him,  *'You  are  hurt,  don't  you 
know  you  are  hurt?''  and  at  that  the  deputy 
governor  turned  a  strange  bleached  face  upon  her, 
a  face  from  which  all  expression  had  ^  been 
stricken  but  for  the  faint  look  of  wonder  in  his 
wide-open  eyes.  For  a  second  he  faced  her,  stand- 
ing erect  as  she  gazed  at  him  wildly.  Then  all  at 
once  he  collapsed,  loosing  his  hold  upon  the 
balustrade  and  falling  as  if  some  long-sustained 
inner  strength  had  suddenly  failed. 

Margarita  caught  his  limp  body  in  her  young 
and  sturdy  arms,  knelt  upon  the  step  and  lowered 
him  to  her  lap,  half  seeing  as  she  peered  into  his 


230  BLACK  GOLD 

face  the  thronging  men  who  cried  out  in  sur- 
prise and  closed  about  her.  She  heard  her  own 
voice  saying  piteously,  **He  is  dead.  I  am  sure  he 
is  dead,''  repeating  this  gently  and  obstinately  as 
a  man  with  a  face  that  she  noticed  was  very 
plump,  with  absurd  round  eyes,  argued  with  her, 
**0h,  no,  mademoiselle,  he  is  not  hurt  at  all,  you 
are  mistaken,  he  has  fainted." 

^'He  is  dead,"  she  said  again.  She  did  not  know 
why  she  was  so  certain,  but  she  had  known  it 
from  the  moment  that  Evaristo  had  staggered 
under  the  blow  of  the  bullet.  She  put  her  hands 
over  his  eyes  as  Custodio  de  Freitas  knelt  beside 
her  on  the  narrow  stair,  opened  Evaristo 's  shirt 
and  bent  over  his  heart.  When  he  looked  up  again 
he  said  simply,  *'Yes,  he  is  dead." 

He  re-arranged  Evaristo 's  clothes,  on  which  no 
sign  of  blood  showed,  and  then  taking  the  limp 
head  into  his  arms,  said  decisively  to  the  girl, 
*'Go,  go,  dear  child.  Go  at  once.  It  will  be  much 
better.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done  here.  Go,  I 
beg  you." 

Someone  helped  her  to  rise,  and  she  stood  for 
a  minute  looking  down  at  the  dead  face,  uncon- 
scious of  the  curious  glances  bent  upon  her  by  the 
people  who  pressed  about  them  on  the  stairs.  A 
hand  touched  her  bare  arm,  and  she  turned  to 
Laroche,  as  Affonso,  his  arm  in  a  white  sling,  his 
face  ghastly,  pushed  his  way  to  the  side  of  Evar- 
isto. She  withdrew  quickly,  and  followed  the  un- 
happy impresario  down  a  few  stairs.  Bianca, 
sobbing  with  long  gasps  as  she  held  an  end  of 
her  long  scarf  before  her  face,  clutched  Laroche 's 
hand,  but  Margarita,  half  dazed,  walked  as  if  in 
a  dream.  Her  mind  seemed  to  search  for  meanings 
in  a  whirl  of  dreadful  sounds  and  glaring  lights, 


BLACK  GOLD  231 

and  it  was  not  until  they  had  squeezed  a  way 
through  the  people  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  oblivi- 
ous of  the  looks  that  followed  them,  and  emerged 
into  the  cool  dark  night,  that  a  flooding  thought 
of  sudden  clarity  came  upon  her. 

Her  seeking  mind  had  found  the  poignant, 
threatening  thing  that  had  been  said.  ^*You  want 
to  ruin  the  Amazon,  you  and  your  foreign  friend! 
.  .  .  We  are  going  to  put  you  in  jail,  your  com- 
pany promoter  and  you!" 

John  Ware,  John  Ware!  In  what  danger  was 
he,  there  in  the  forest  miles  away,  unsuspicious 
of  all  this  anger  and  trouble?  Someone  must  go 
to  him,  tell  him,  warn  him.  Otherwise,  those  who 
were  not  his  friends  might  reach  him  first.  There 
had  been  murder.  It  was  still  in  their  minds,  in 
their  plans  maybe.  Her  thought  flew  to  him  and 
clung,  rejecting  as  without  importance  all  the 
persons  and  the  scenes  of  her  old  and  new  associa- 
tion and  also  a  shred  of  cold  hesitation  lest  the 
threats  might  be  short-lived  and  empty,  after  all. 
She  knew  just  what  she  must  do,  without  a  second 
of  hesitation.  She  stood  on  the  pavement  and 
spoke  quietly  to  Laroche. 

*^I  have  forgotten  something  very  important. 
I  must  go  back  to  my  dressing  room.  Take  Bianca 
home — she  is  ill,  worn  out.  ...  I  will  get  Custodio 
de  Freitas  or  someone  to  bring  me  to  the  hotel. 
Go  on  and  don't  worry.  Take  Bianca  at  once. 
Don't  wait."  She  was  so  calm  and  decided  that 
Laroche  made  no  protest.  She  slipped  up  the 
crowded  stairs,  ran  along  the  empty  corridors  to 
her  dressing  room,  shut  and  locked  the  door,  and 
switched  on  the  electric  light. 


xvin 

SHE  hnrrledly  tore  the  glowing  satin  from  her 
body,  ripping  chiffon  and  lace  when  the  fas- 
tenings irked  her  trembling  fingers,  kicked  the 
silver  slippers  into  a  corner,  and  tore  off  the  thin, 
shimmering  stockings.  Then  ran  to  her  property 
box,  fumbled  in  its  depths,  and  brought  out  a 
pair  of  sandals,  a  blue  cotton  skirt  and  black 
shawl.  She  threw  the  shawl  over  her  shoulders 
and  head;  her  bare  feet  would  give  her  free  pas- 
sage where  satin  shoes  could  never  carry  her  un- 
scathed. As  she  arranged  the  black  cloth  to  fall 
low  over  her  forehead,  she  caught  in  the  mirror 
the  reflection  of  the  heavy  string  of  pearls,  a  lus- 
trous circle  about  her  neck.  Such  a  glimpse  as 
that  might  betray  her!  She  caught  at  them  with 
both  hands,  broke  the  thread,  and  as  they  rolled  on 
the  floor  she  pushed  them  away  impatiently  with 
her  bare  foot. 

As  she  glanced  hastily  about  the  room,  her  fin- 
gers upon  the  door — who  could  tell  how  soon 
someone  might  come!  She  must  hurry,  hurry! — 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  scattered  pearls  again,  and 
for  a  second  a  feeling  of  wonder  crossed  her  mind 
that  only  a  few  hours  ago  those  round  and  shin- 
ing beads  had  meant  something  to  her,  that  they 
had  really  seemed  important.  ...  As  she  turned, 
she  trod  on  one  of  the  pearls,  picked  it  up,  and 
stared  at  it.  There  was  a  tiny  smear  of  blood. 
Was  it  on  her  hand  or  the  pearl?  She  shut  her 
eyes,  felt  her  forehead  dampened,  and,  dropping 

232 


BLACK  GOLD  233 

the  pearl  into  her  breast,  turned  the  handle  of  the 
door  and  slipped  out. 

She  made  her  way  to  the  narrow  staircase  at 
the  back;  a  light  glimmered  at  its  head,  and  this 
she  switched  off  before  descending.  She  felt  calm, 
as  if  walking  in  a  dream,  and  thought  no  more 
of  the  scenes  of  the  day,  the  disaster,  of  Francina 
— ^her  numbed  mind  concerned  itself  no  longer 
with  the  immediate  past,  and  little  with  the  pres- 
ent, fixing  all  its  strength  upon  one  thing,  upon 
the  one  object — the  hut  in  the  forest.  At  the  outer 
door  she  stopped  a  moment  to  put  on  her  sandals, 
then  turned  the  big  handle  and  looked  cautiously 
out  into  the  deserted  space.  Here  all  was  silent, 
but  she  heard  movements  and  cries  that  came 
from  the  front  of  the  theatre.  The  night  was  dark, 
only  the  electric  lights  forming  little  pools  of  blue 
haze.  She  passed  quickly,  a  shadow  among 
shadows,  keeping  beneath  trees,  crossing  side 
streets,  turning  north  when  she  dared;  she  hurried 
past  the  gaunt  piles  and  debris  of  the  half-fin- 
ished palace  of  the  governor,  intending  to  trav- 
erse the  Praga  5  de  Setembro,  and  so  to  come 
out  into  the  Avenida  Constantino.  But  here  a 
group  of  men  stood,  talking  loudly  under  a  lamp. 
They  caught  sight  of  her  dim,  shrinking  shape 
and  called,  jovial.  She  turned  and  ran,  noiseless, 
like  a  frightened  little  creature  of  the  woods,  tak- 
ing refuge  in  the  shadows  of  the  next  corner, 
turning  south  for  shelter.  They  did  not  attempt 
to  follow.  When  she  saw  that  the  street  remained 
silent  and  empty,  and  her  heart  had  ceased  its 
violent  beating,  she  made  her  way  across  the  rua 
do  Progreso,  and  so  at  last  into  the  Epaminondas. 
She  was  alert  now. 

Here  on  this  wide  and  empty  avenue  the  black 


234  BLACK  GOLD 

velvet  darkness  was  a  more  unbroken  mass;  it 
pressed  about  her,  the  warm  air  an  actual  weight 
upon  her  limbs.  The  street  lamps  threw  only  thin 
fingers  into  the  thick  air.  She  hurried  up  the 
road,  trying  to  keep  her  thoughts  from  the  en- 
closure that  lay  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  but  as  she 
came  abreast  of  it  she  stopped  and  with  a  renewal 
of  courage  looked  at  that  crowded  ground  where 
so  many  people  lay  in  a  narrow  space.  Near  the 
railings,  a  ray  of  light  suddenly  made  plain  a  new 
opening  in  the  red  soil;  it  yawned,  significant, 
waiting  for  its  mouthful.  Purple-black  shadows 
lay  in  its  depths.  She  shrank  from  it  as  from  a 
blow,  pulled  the  mantilla  tighter  about  her  head, 
and  hastened  on. 

Passing  the  cemetery,  leaving  the  rails  of  the 
car  line  behind,  she  walked  quickly  past  the 
houses,  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief  when  they 
ceased.  Almost  all  were  in  darkness,  but  here 
and  there  a  dog  howled  and  once  the  tinkle  of  a 
viola  came  from  behind  a  half-closed  shutter. 
From  Evaristo's  big  house,  lights  streamed. 
Many  of  the  shutters  were  wide  open,  and  from 
a  wide  room  into  which  Margarita  could  see 
plainly  came  the  click  of  billiard  balls  and  the 
sound  of  laughter.  Groups  of  people  stood  in  that 
room,  and  as  she  passed,  pressing  against  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  she  saw  a  man  come  to 
the  open  window  and  lean  out. 

They  didn't  know  yet,  she  said  to  herself, 
astonished  that  all  the  world  was  not  conscious 
of  the  violent  deeds  of  the  night.  From  this  point 
pretentious  houses  ceased.  She  hurried,  half 
running,  down  the  long  slope,  tree-closed,  and 
quite  dark  but  for  the  pale  mosaic  on  the 
pavement  where  electric  lights  pierced  the  thick 


BLACK  GOLD  235 

leaves.  But  the  sound  of  a  footstep  made  her 
leave  this  path,  fearing  an  encounter,  and  she 
made  her  way  in  the  heavy  shadows  on  the  ex- 
treme left,  where  the  open  ground  seemed  less 
dangerous  than  the  opposite  bank  with  its  hud- 
dling cottages. 

Suddenly  a  silver  flood  began  to  lighten  the 
sky  and  she  saw  the  rising  edge  of  the  moon 
above  the  trees.  In  a  few  moments  the  road  was 
flooded  with  light,  and,  looking  furtively  up  and 
down,  she  saw  only  a  long  empty  ribbon.  The 
single  footfall  had  disappeared.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  in  all  the  expanse  outside  the  city  nothing 
moved  or  breathed  but  herself.  Even  the  illunii- 
nated  leaves  of  the  Indian  laurels  were  as  still 
as  death — as  death!  The  air  was  as  heavy  as  a 
wet  cloth. 

When,  her  feet  flying,  her  breathing  labored, 
she  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill,  the  moon  was 
half  hidden  behind  cloud  banks.  The  electric 
lights  ceased,  throwing  a  final  gleam  upon  the 
little  water  tower  and  the  sandy  road  that  ran 
off  to  the  igarape.  In  front,  all  was  dark.  Now 
the  hardest  part,  perhaps,  of  her  journey  began. 
The  road,  suddenly  losing  all  its  apparelled 
dignity,  ran  straight  ahead,  dwindled,  dropped, 
fading  out  among  the  trees.  The  forest  swallow- 
ing this  last  trace  of  men's  work  stood  in  a  solid 
black  mass,  menacing,  a  motionless  host  of  ene- 
mies, armed  for  the  quick  overthrow  of  the  weak. 
The  feet  of  Margarita  faltered  and  stopped  at 
sight  of  that  dark  array.  She  turned  upon  the 
top  of  the  hill  and  looked  back  upon  the  road 
along  which  she  had  fled,  watching  the  diminish-^ 
ing  string  of  lights  as  they  ran  back  towards 
Manaos,    Exalted,  fevered,  she  stared  painfully 


236  BLACK  GOLD 

into  the  distance  until  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  see  the  whole  of  the  bizarre,  ramshackle 
city  spread  like  a  map,  the  city  with  its  upstart 
houses,  the  glaring  theatre,  the  countless  shriek- 
ing clubs  that  stood  open  all  night,  the  churches 
that  meant  nothing  at  all.  Her  burning  eyes 
seemed  to  look  through  walls  and  roofs.  She  saw 
into  the  pillared  hall,  the  white  staircase  with  its 
new  sinister  stains  of  red;  she  saw  beyond  to  the 
line  where  the  black  river  ran  past,  eternal  bar- 
rier, eternal  voyager,  enclosing  the  little  scrap  of 
soil  where  men  from  all  over  the  world  toiled  like 
ants  and  conspired  and  fought  and  wrecked  their 
minds  and  bodies  for  the  sake  of  a  handful  of  gold 
to  spend  on  vain  rubbish  ...  as  pearls  ?  She  saw 
the  shining  things  scattered  upon  a  polished  floor. 

Almost  up  to  her  feet  ran  the  work  of  these 
struggling  men,  planning  their  little  roads,  carv- 
ing out  a  fevered  market  place,  piling  up  stones 
to  make  houses,  insolently  floating  their  cockle- 
shell boats  upon  the  great  river,  sending  men  into 
the  multitudes  of  trees  to  steal  from  those  giants; 
and  while  they  labored,  the  silent  and  apparently 
submissive  nature  triumphed  over  those  puny 
efforts.  Here  were  forever  on  guard  the  double 
lines  of  forest  and  river,  strong,  immutable;  not 
things  without  sentience,  not  undirected,  but  part 
of  all  life,  majestic  in  power  and  silence. 

A  dank  and  chilly  wind  suddenly  blew.  Shiver- 
ing, she  stood  erect  from  the  tree  where  she  had 
leaned  her  tired  body,  and  with  an  effort  with- 
drew her  mind.  '*I  must  go  on,  I  must  go  on," 
she  said  to  herself.  **I  must  find  him,  I  must  tell 
him."  She  turned  her  face  to  the  forest  and 
moved  a  few  steps  towards  it,  as  the  moon  came 
gallantly  out,  sailing  in  a  clear  sapphire  sky. 


BLACK  GOLD  237 

Sheets  of  silver-blue  light  flooded  the  massed  tops 
of  the  forest  trees,  enormous  waves  of  hazy  blue- 
green.  Into  that  waste  of  verdure  she  must  go, 
and  quickly.  Somewhere  stretched  the  little  path, 
somewhere  she  must  find  the  creek;  she  must  find 
the  boat,  seek  the  island  and  the  little  hut.  The 
hut!  To  her  shaken  heart,  the  hut  that  sheltered 
Ware  was  a  haven.  Her  thought  ran  to  it  and 
rested  in  it  with  a  sense  of  measureless  comfort. 
Where  did  it  lie — in  all  those  swaddling  mazes 
of  forest? 

**I  will  find  it,"  she  said,  to  spur  the  courage 
that  sank  at  sight  of  that  illimitable  sea  of  tree 
tops.  There,  to  the  west,  where  the  forest  dipped 
into  a  crease,  lay  the  black  river;  she  followed  the 
fold  with  her  eyes,  as  if  trying  to  pierce  the  net- 
work of  forest  and  waterways,  her  mind  seeking. 
As  she  looked,  the  moonlit  mist  that  hung  above 
the  trees  seemed  to  melt  at  a  distant  point.  She 
saw  plainly  a  little  group  of  friendly  trees,  their 
leaves  dancing  over  golden  fruit.  Now  the  trunks 
fell  gently  apart,  and  she  saw  directly  into  the 
heart  of  a  tiny  clearing — a  clearing,  or  a  garden? 
Bright  flowers  shine  as  if  in  the  sun,  there  is 
a  sharp-sweet  scent  as  of  heather,  white  walls  of  a 
cottage  gleam  between  the  bushes;  a  thin  wisp  of 
blue  smoke  drifts  upwards. 

While  she  stood  staring,  but  without  any  feel- 
ing of  surprise,  a  clamor  sounded,  the  crash  of 
bells  from  the  city  calling  midnight.  Her  mind 
came  quickly  back  to  the  road  on  which  she  stood. 
*^I  am  dreaming.  It  was  the  house  of  faery.  I 
am  dreaming,''  she  said  to  herself,  but  now  took 
up  her  march  extraordinarily  comforted. 

As  she  entered  the  woodland  she  saw  that  it 
was  not  quite  dark.  The  path  was  broad  enough 


238  BLACK  GOLD 

to  permit  the  moon  to  push  through  the  branches, 
creating  lacy  silver-and-black  patterns  on  the 
path.  As  in  the  forest  by  daylight,  there  was  a 
pervading  silence,  but  now  and  again  this  silence 
was  broken  by  strange  sounds  that  did  not  seem 
to  be  made  by  any  animal.  From  some  distance 
there  once  came  a  crashing  noise,  as  if  some  beast 
moved  a  clumsy  body  through  the  undergrowth, 
and  once  a  strange  moaning  cry  sounded  that  rose 
and  shrilled  and  died  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
begun.  She  knew  that  this  part  of  the  forest  was 
too  near  the  city  for  any  fear  of  encountering 
dangerous  wild  creatures,  but  involuntarily 
thought  of  the  great  snakes  that  lived  in  the 
Amazonian  fastness,  of  the  vengeful  anta  with 
her  tearing  claws,  of  the  little  jaguar,  but  she 
thought  of  them  as  things  belonging  to  another 
life:  she  was  sure  that  nothing  would  harm  her, 
that  nothing  would  touch  her.  Not  only  was  she 
convinced,  now,  that  she  would  safely  find  Ware, 
but  as  she  left  the  troubled  city  farther  behind 
her  spirit  of  the  country  girl  returned,  and  she 
felt  herself  calmed  by  the  contact  of  the  trees; 
they  stifled  her,  she  longed  for  open  spaces,  but 
they  were  not  unfriendly  and  she  could  not  fear 
them. 

She  walked  hurriedly,  the  damp  cold  penetra- 
ting her  clothes,  her  bare  arms  chilly;  she  wrapped 
them  as  well  as  she  could  in  the  heavy  mantilla. 
She  could  not  really  cover  the  ground  quickly 
when  the  path  grew  narrower  and  the  trees  met 
more  thickly  overhead,  for  she  feared  to  miss  the 
little  pathway  in  the  shadows  that  ran  off  to  the 
igarape.  She  remembered  John's  warning  that 
the  path  was  nothing  but  a  tiny  grass-grown 
track. 


BLACK  GOLD  239 

In  the  end,  she  found  it  by  chance,  when,  stop- 
ping to  fasten  one  of  her  sandals,  she  leant  her 
hand  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  felt  it  scored 
with  deep  notches.  Turning  now  to  the  left,  she 
almost  felt  her  way  along  the  new  track,  care- 
fully, lest  an  unguarded  step  should  send  her 
wandering  among  the  maze  of  trees,  to  lose  her 
way.  But  feeling  tree  after  tree  with  her  out- 
stretched hand,  taking  each  step  slowly,  avoid- 
ing the  openings  between  the  trunks  where  there 
was  heavy  undergrowth  covered  with  thorns  or 
vine-matted,  she  managed  by  good  fortune  to 
keep  upon  the  trail.  It  presently  led  her  down  a 
gentle  slope,  at  whose  bottom  she  heard  the  secret 
rustling  of  water  against  water  plants. 

A  moment  more  and  she  knelt  at  the  edge  of  the 
tiny  stream,  bathing  her  hands,  thinking  with 
longing  of  clear  brooks  upon  distant  moors,  where 
one  might  drink  fearlessly.  It  was  very  dark  and 
still.  No  moonlight  penetrated  here.  The  boat- 
how  could  she  find  it!  It  should  lie  somewhere  un- 
der this  bank.  She  began  to  grope  her  way  along 
the  edge  of  the  water,  peering  at  its  dead  black 
surface,  when  suddenly  a  voice  cried:  *' Quern 
vae?"  Her  heart  stopped  beating,  but  risking  all 
she  murmured:  ** Vicente!"  and  heard  with  a  vio- 
lent reaction  of  feeling  his  quick  exclamation, 
**Deus!   Senhora  Margarita!" 

She  trembled,  clutching  a  bough  for  support, 
tears  in  her  eyes.  Before  her  a  twinkling  light 
rose,  as  Vincente  swung  a  lantern  aloft,  illumi- 
nating his  dark,  wooden  face.  She  saw  in  a  few 
seconds  that  he  was  standing  upright  in  Ware's 
motor  boat,  moored  so  that  it  lay  in  the  middle  of 
the  narrow  stream.  He  smiled  upon  her,  covered 
the  light  again  with  instinctive  prudence,  seized 


240  BLACK  GOLD 

his  paddle  and  made  a  couple  of  strokes.  Then 
he  jumped  ashore  and  stood  before  her,  remark- 
ing cheerfully,  ''It  is  good  that  you  spoke  soon, 
senhora.  I  heard  the  small  voice  of  your  coming, 
and  diS  not  know  ...  I  make  ready  a  gun.  It  is 
well.  I  am  at  your  orders.'' 

''I  must  go  at  once  to  find  the  Senhor  Ware, 
quickly.  It  is  of  very  great  importance, ' '  she  said, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  The  caboclo,  re- 
garding with  intelligent  eyes  the  lady  of  his  lord, 
made  no  demur,  but  pulled  the  boat's  side  close 
to  the  shelving  margin,  and  helped  her  to  step  in. 
The  blackness  of  the  forest  was  only  faintly 
broken  by  the  sheen  of  the  water,  but  he  busied 
himself  with  the  machinery  without  hesitation, 
using  his  hurricane  lantern  rarely.  He  started  the 
engine  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  little  craft  began 
to  move  down  the  narrow  igarape  towards  the 
Negro,  with  what  seemed  to  the  girl  like  a  ter- 
rible noise,  echoing  in  that  dark  and  silent  wood- 
land. 

Vicente  appeared  to  steer  by  instinct,  for  to 
Margarita  there  was  no  light  or  any  other  guide. 
But  in  a  short  time  the  waterway  grew  wider,  a 
pale  reflection  from  the  sky  reached  the  surface. 
She  could  make  out  dimly,  as  they  crept  onwards, 
the  shapes  of  other  boats  moored  to  the  banks, 
and  the  looming  bulk  of  houses.  Here  Vicente  in- 
creased his  speed  and  they  shot  past  the  fringe 
of  the  city,  where  lights  still  moved.  When, 
with  the  engine  purring,  they  entered  the  broad 
waters  of  the  Negro  he  turned  upstream,  almost 
due  west,  and,  hugging  the  left  bank,  began  to 
make  for  the  islands. 

Margarita  sat  huddled  in  her  shawl,  peering 
into  the  night.   When  she  asked  the  caboclo  if 


BLACK  GOLD  241 

they  could  reach  the  senhor's  house  before  dawn 
he  smiled  with  a  flash  of  white  teeth  and  re- 
sponded with  his  unfailing  cheerfulness,  '*Sini, 
senhora!  I  make  all  possible!'' 

He  handed  her  a  rug  and  begged  her  to  cover 
herself  against  the  chill  of  the  early  hours,  **um 
frio  muito  perigroso"— a  very  dangerous  cold, 
and  as  the  stars  paled  he  ran  the  Boto  faster  m 
the  wide  and  silent  river.  A  flush  suffused  the 
east  as  he  traversed  the  water  path  between  the 
two  islands  directly  across  the  river,  and  turned 
again  upstream  near  the  right  bank.  Suddenly, 
against  a  sky  of  trembling  gold,  she  saw  the  rocky 
spit  with  a  cluster  of  upright  trees  that  marked 
the  screened  entrance  to  Ware's  forest  dwelling. 


XIX 

YVTAEE,  returning  to  his  hut  after  an  early 
^"  visit  to  the  seringal  that  morning,  was  met 
by  a  figure  that  rose  from  the  side  of  the  path  and 
greeted  him  calmly.  *'The  Senhora  Margarita  is 
here. ' '  He  smothered  an  exclamation  at  this  news. 
''Did  she  tell  you  why,  did  she  say  anything T' 
No,  she  hadn't  said  anything,  she  only  told  him  to 
come  quickly.  Nothing  was  strange  to  Vicente's 
quiet  mind,  apparently. 

Striding  hastily  to  his  shelter,  Ware  stopped 
with  a  hand  upon  the  frail  door,  his  eyes  caught 
by  something  round  and  lustrous  that  lay  on  the 
hard  mud  floor's  edge.  He  picked  it  up — a  pearl, 
with  a  little  brownish  stain  on  one  side.  Gently 
pushing  the  door  wider,  he  saw  a  little  hand  that 
hung  over  the  border  of  his  hammock  in  the  dim 
interior,  a  hand  with  a  turquoise  ring  on  the  little 
finger.  It  drooped,  innocent,  trusting,  as  if  be- 
longing to  someone  who  slept.  He  stood  still  for 
quite  a  whole  minute,  perhaps  because  he  could 
not  see  very  well  in  that  dark  hut,  after  the  bright 
pearly  lights  of  the  young  morning.  Then  he  re- 
treated, arranged  the  door  to  keep  out  the  light, 
and  began  to  busy  himself  with  a  pan  of  charcoal 
outside. 

He  boiled  water,  took  newly  pulverized  coffee 
in  a  small  bag,  dripped  the  steaming  water 
through  it,  and  then  went  quietly  and  looked 
through  a  crack  in  the  door.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
aroma  of  the  coffee  that  waked  the  girl;   she 

242 


BLACK  GOLD  243 

opened  her  eyes,  raised  her  head;  he  came  quickly 
to  her  side. 

*' Don't  move.  Drink  this  first/'  he  said,  an  arm 
behind  her  shoulders.  She  drank  obediently,  like 
a  child,  now  and  then  raising  big  eyes  to  his  face 
over  the  rim  of  the  cup.  When  nothing  but  sugar 
was  left  at  the  bottom,  he  said:  ^'Very  well.  Now 
...  did  you  come  to  tell  me  something,  Mar- 
garita?'' And  at  this,  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

*'Yes.  Let  me  get  up,  John."  She  swung  her 
feet  to  the  floor,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  hammock, 
and  began  her  story.  Ware,  stroking  her  hands 
^s  if  she  was  a  child,  listened  to  her  tale  of  the 
election,  the  scene  in  the  theatre,  the  shooting.  He 
exclaimed  at  this  last,  ^'Oh,  my  poor  little  dear!" 
but  otherwise  sat  listening,  nodding  from  time  to 
time,  and  saying  at  the  end,  ^'Yes,  there  was 
always  the  chance  of  trouble,  if  somebody  got 
excited.  Evaristo  risked  too  much.  He  flouted 
them  with  his  election  practical  joke.  And  then 
that  wretched  little  Souza  ...  I  am  awfully  sorry 
about  Affonso.  You  are  a  very  brave  girl.  .  .  . 
Now,  you  must  eat  something.  Vicente  is  getting 
some  breakfast  ready.  Stay  there  and  I  will  bring 
you  some  water  and  a  towel." 

He  fetched  water  from  the  river  in  a  big  gourd, 
and  a  linen  towel,  and  then  stood  gravely  holding 
his  little  square  inch  of  mirror  while  she  took 
down  her  ruffled  hair,  braided  it,  and  threw  it 
hanging  over  her  shoulder.  Then  Vicente  brought 
rice  and  black  beans,  steaming  fish  stewed  with 
pimentos,  some  sour  red  fruit  mashed  up  witn 
sugar;  and  they  ended  the  meal  with  more  little 
cups  of  black  coffee.  When  Vicente  was  washing 
up,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  dipping  the  plates 
in  the  stream,  she  said  to  John: 


244  BLACK  GOLD 

^^Wliat  are  yon  going  to  do!" 

*'If  it  wasn't  for  you  and  my  work,  it  wonld  be 
simple/'  lie  said.  **I  should  of  course  go  back  to 
Manaos  at  once  and  find  out  what  they  had  to 
say.  But  with  a  political  upheavel,  and  Affonso 
knocked  out  for  a  time,  I  don't  know  if  I  could 
get  a  fair  hearing  in  their  present  mood.  They 
need  time  to  get  cooled  off.  I  could  probably  talk 
to  the  Brazilians,  if  it  weren't  for  the  political 
complication — ^but  the  merchants  ...  I  doubt  it. 
And  this  is  just  the  moment  when  I  can't  take 
risks,  because  yesterday,  by  the  irony  of  fate,  I 
was  able  to  decide  that  I  had  really  got  my  work 
done — found  out  how  to  do  it  without  any  mis- 
take— at  last.  If  they  asked  me,  I  should  certainly 
tell  them  so,  and  then  there  might  be  more 
trouble.  Of  course,  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I  don't 
think  so;  I  think  I  have  got  it  ...  I  must  get 
that  process,  the  whole  thing,  into  the  hands  of 
the  people  who  can  use  it,  at  once.  That  is  easy 
for  me.  But  Margarita,  what  am  I  going  to  do 
with  you?*' 

She  answered  with  a  question:  *^"What  are  you 
going  to  dor' 

*^I  am  going  to  borrow  a  boat,  a  good-sized 
canoe,  belonging  to  Vicente's  brother,  and  run 
down  direct  from  here  to  Para,  where  I  can  take  a 
steamer  without  trouble.  I  can  keep  out  of  the 
usual  channels,  most  of  the  time.  I  could  do  it 
in  the  motor  boat  quicker,  but  I  don't  know  if  I 
can  run  the  risk  of  their  looking  out  for  the  Boto. 
Eaf ael  's  igarite  has  a  covered  end,  quite  comfort- 
able, and  a  sail,  and  we  are  all  decent  paddlers." 

**You  must  take  me  with  you.  I  am  a  good 
waterman  too,"  she  said. 

He  considered  this.  **I  realize  that  it  wouldn't 


BLACK  GOLD  245 

be  very  agreeable  for  you  to  return  to  Manaos. 
But  think  carefully!  You  are  not  stupid,  Mar- 
garita, and  you  must  consider.  ...  I  could,  you 
see,  send  you  back  at  once  with  Vicente  in  the 
Boto.'' 
'*  Wasting  your  time  if  you  waited  until  Vicente 

got  back.'' 

He  shook  his  head.  *'I  should  not  wait.  It 
would  be  risking  things.  Perhaps  he  couldn't  get 
back  at  all." 

**You  needn't  think  of  it.  I  am  not  going 
back  to  Manaos.  It  would  be  dreadful.  No!  And 
remember  that  it  wouldn't  be  at  all  easy.  I  have 
been  missed  by  this  time.  I  could  scarcely  go  in 
by  Manaos'  front  door,  in  your  boat,  by  daylight, 
with  alpargatas  on  my  feet?  And  you  are  not  ask- 
ing me  to  return  by  night,  the  way  I  cameT'  She 
shuddered.  Then  said  meekly: 

''At  Para  I  should  find  Francina.  And  I  could 
take  a  steamer  home,  too." 

He  walked  to  the  door  and  stood  looking  out. 
The  little  clearing  was  flooded  with  sun.  Bright 
dappled  woods  closed  it  in,  birds  called  and  whis- 
tled gaily;  a  cashew  tree  in  scented  flower  threw 
patterned  shadows  over  the  hut. 

''Very  well." 

She  regarded  the  back  of  his  head,  stood  up, 
came  towards  him.  "You  are  not  very  anxious 
for  my  company." 

"I  will  tell  you  about  that  at  Para,"  he  said 
drily.  "You  are  a  very  serious  responsibility." 
He  gave  her  a  quick  glance.  "I  must  think  for 
you. ' ' 

"At  least  say  you  are  glad  I  came.'* 

"Margarita,  dear,  be  careful  what  you  say  to 
me."     Then,    obeying,   perhaps,    an   irresistible 


246  BLACK  GOLD 

impulse,  he  turned  and  came  close  to  her,  began  to 
speak  hurriedly:  **You  know  very  well  that  I 
adore  every  bit  of  you,  from  your  dear  feet  to  the 
top  of  your  head.  I  believe  you  love  me  too,  or  you 
wouldn't  have  come  here  to  me.  You  look  like  a 
child" — and  she  did  look  very  much  a  child 
— standing  there  with  short  blue  skirt  and  bare 
feet,  and  a  little  white  camisa  thing  showing  her 
white  arms,  and  her  hair  down  her  back — **You 
look  like  a  little  girl,  and  yet  I  am  horribly  afraid 
of  you,  Margarita  .  .  .  because  I  know  that  you 
are  not  a  little  girl,  and  you  seem  to  me  like  the 
sun  and  moon  and  all  the  earth  and  everything 
sweet  and  desirable  in  the  world.  I  am  madly  in 
love  with  you,  and  you  know  it  ...  I  have  never 
known  how  to  keep  my  hands  from  you, 
Margarita. 

**I  may  have  lots  of  money  soon:  but  perhaps 
not.  Would  you  marry  a  poor  man!'' 

She  did  not  answer,  but  the  look  in  the  eyes 
she  kept  on  his  must  have  told  him  something, 
for  with  a  quick  exclamation  he  put  his  hands  on 
her  shoulders. 

Holding  her  close,  he  kissed  her,  swiftly  and 
almost  violently,  she  making  no  sound  nor  sign, 
except  a  quick  smiling  gasp.  Then  he  released 
her,  dropping  his  hands  and  going  hastily  out  of 
the  door. 


XX 

AN  hour  later  Ware  came  back  to  the  hut  door 
and  told  her  that  the  Boto  was  ready. 

''We  have  packed  and  stowed  on  board  all  the 
things  we  need  take,  and  you  luckily  haven't  got 
any  packing  to  do,''  he  said,  cheerful  and  com- 
radely. He  took  down  the  heavy  cotton  hammock, 
rolled  it  up  to  go  under  a  seat  of  the  motor  boat, 
and  as  he  walked  beside  the  girl  to  the  water's 
edge  he  told  her  of  their  chief  problems. 

*'My  brave  dear,  we  have  a  few  things  to  con- 
sider. Not  very  big  difficulties,  but  if  I  am  going 
to  run  off  with  you  to  Para  it  would  be  rather 
ignominious  to  be  caught  on  the  way.  ...  Do  you 
hear  my  friends  the  trupials  calling  good-by  from 
that  tall  tree?  .  .  .  You  see,  the  quickest  way  to 
descend  the  river  is  to  use  the  motor  boat.  But 
she  is  too  light  for  risking  squalls  and  snags  in 
the  central  current,  while  if  we  hug  the  banks  we 
lose  time.  Give  me  your  hand  it's  steep  here."  ^ 

They  stooped  under  a  vine  curtain  hung  with 
purple  flowers,  and  as  Ware  held  back  the  trails 
from  the  girl's  head  it  seemed  to  him  that  there 
never  had  been  so  heart-rendingly  beautiful  a 
thing  as  her  pale  face.  He  looked  away  and  went 
on  speaking  steadily. 

''Any  old  tub  of  a  steamer  can  get  down  from 
Manaos  to  Para  in  two  days  if  she  runs  in  mid- 
current.  We  can  do  it,  too,  if  we  take  two  risks: 
being  recognized,  and  getting  smashed  up.  The 
Amazon's  pretty  dangerous,  what  with  shallow 

247 


248  BLACK  GOLD 

mns,  and  floating  trunks,  and  the  enchente  from 
the  upper  reaches  when  the  snow  melts,  and  sud- 
den squalls  and  rains.  Dangerous  for  little  craft, 
I  mean.  The  question  is  whether  we  should  do 
better  to  use  the  motor  and  keep  out  of  the  Ama- 
zon, working  through  by  some  of  the  side  chan- 
nels— there  are  scores  of  them — or  to  go  straight 
down  the  river  in  one  of  the  covered  river  craft 
that  wouldn't  be  noticed.  It  would  be  all  right  if 
we  could  take  it  easily,  but  probably  we  haven't 
got  time  to  be  careful." 

*'You  think  they'll  be  looking  out  for  usf " 

**I  don't  know.  If  that  Souza  crowd  gets 
worked  up,  you  can't  tell.  Anyway,  if  they  come 
here  they  won't  find  much.  And  I  doubt  if  any- 
one besides  Guimaraes  knew  exactly  where  this 
hut  stands."  He  dismissed  this  and  returned  to 
the  idea  of  the  journey. 

'^If  we  don't  use  the  motor  boat,  we  must  do 
what  I  first  thought  of — go  down  in  Rafael's 
igarite:and  probably  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to 
start  out  with  both  of  them,  the  Boto  towing  the 
canoe.  Rafael  lives  on  a  little  lake  on  one  of  these 
intricate  water  paths  between  the  Negro  and  the 
Alto  Amazonas,  and  I  don't  know  even  whether 
he's  at  home  or  not.  I  have  sent  Vicente  ahead 
in  his  own  canoe  to  tell  his  brother  to  get  ready, 
if  he  is  there.  We  '11  follow  in  the  Boto.  Here  we 
are:  the  sooner  we  start  the  better."  He  tossed 
the  hammock  into  the  boat,  shadowed  under  great 
trees. 

^*I  can  be  your  assistant  engineer,"  she  re- 
minded him  as  he  helped  her  in.  **  You  know  I  am 
at  home  on  the  water,  in  any  kind  of  craft 
almost." 

He  started  the  mechanism,  turning  his  head  to 


BLACK  GOLD  249 

say:  '*We  can't  tell  until  we  try  it  whether  there 
is  enough  water  for  the  Boto  all  the  way  through 
this  igarape.  But  this  time  of  the  year  there  ought 
to  be  lots  of  water;  usually,  so  many  channels 
would  be  flooded  that  we  could  take  any  one  of  a 
dozen  ways  through  to  the  Amazon.  ...  Sit  well 
under  the  awning,  dear.  .  .  .  But  we  have  had 
so  little  rain  this  year,  and  of  course  none  of  the 
Andes  snow  has  melted  yet.  You  see  the  sand- 
banks are  not  submerged  altogether,  and  gener- 
ally by  this  time  you  couldn't  see  a  bit  of  them, 
and  the  water  would  be  a  foot  or  two  up  the  tree 
trunks.  It  has  been  extraordinarily  dry." 

The  Boto  began  to  move  forward  along  the  path 
of  the  black  water.  As  they  left  the  little  clearing 
and  entered  deeper  shadows,  they  both  looked 
back  at  it.  The  sun  was  brilliant  in  that  airy  space. 
All  the  birds  were  silent  now,  withdrawn  to  their 
shady  retreats  in  the  upper  branches,  but  a  few 
cicadas  strummed  lazily  and  beside  the  moist  edge 
of  the  water  a  myriad  butterflies  in  gold  and 
green  panoplies  fluttered  or  settled  to  suck  the 
moisture.  The  tall,  pale-stemmed  trees,  the  bright 
flowers  that  hung  wherever  the  sunlight  could 
reach  them,  the  deep  and  dark  array  of  the  far- 
ther forest  across  the  backwater,  and  the  clear, 
burning  blue  sky,  made  a  series  of  bright 
pictures. 

How  much  water  did  the  Boto  draw,  Marga- 
rita wanted  to  know.  Less  than  a  couple  of  feet. 
Ware  told  her,  so  he  thought  they  could  make  it. 
*'But  if  we  do  get  stuck  we  shall  have  to  wait 
until  Vicente  comes  to  meet  us  with  his  little  mon- 
taria.  Heaven  send  we  don't  miss  him  through 
these  interminable  water  paths.  Margarita,  I  am 
regarding  this  as  an  elopement,  and  it's  the  only 


250  BLACK  GOLD 

one  I  shall  ever  have.  So  if  you  do  really  want  to 
come  with  me,  pray  to  all  your  stone  gods  that  the 
water's  thirty  inches  deep.'' 

He  steered  his  boat  southwards,  following  the 
windings  of  the  dark  creek,  and  leaving  the  main 
body  of  the  river  Negro  to  the  north.  The  sun- 
flecked,  tree-shaded  channel,  appearing  at  first 
scarcely  wide  enough  to  permit  the  passage  of  the 
Boto,  presently  spread  out  into  a  wide  and  still 
lagoon,  brooding,  silent,  deeply  shadowed  by  huge 
forest  trees  that  stood  with  their  stately  trunks 
rising  stark  from  the  motionless  water.  These 
trunks  reached  upwards  like  enormous  pillars 
without  a  break  until  finally,  at  a  great  height, 
they  spread  in  a  heavy  mass  of  leaves  that  com- 
pletely blotted  out  the  sky.  There  was  no  sound 
from  forest  or  water  except  when  some  crea- 
ture of  the  igapo,  a  turtle  or  a  fish,  flopped  lazily 
and  sent  rings  rippling  over  the  black  surface. 

It  seemed  as  if  these  dim  retreats  were  almost 
untenanted  but  for  the  struggling  masses  of  ver- 
dure that  climbed  and  twisted  upwards.  The 
trees  were  of  many  kinds;  here  were  the  tall  pale 
stems  of  cecropias,  bearing  long  thin  branches 
terminating  in  palmate  leaves  with  silver  backs; 
there,  dark-green  trunks,  jostled  by  palms  with 
menacing  spines  covering  their  frailness.  The 
smooth-barked  trees  shot  up  in  long  clean  lines, 
their  tops  lost  in  the  lofty  maze;  but  those  with 
rough  trunks  were  hosts  to  masses  of  air  plants 
with  dangling  roots  and  large  fantastic  leaves,  to 
the  polished  greenery  of  the  orchids,  thousands  of 
clustered  ferns  and  the  matted  ropes  of  innumer- 
able lianes.  When,  here  and  there,  flashes  of  sun- 
light penetrated,  these  dense  massed  at  once  took 
on  brilliant  hues,  with  the  different  shades  of 


BLACK  GOLD  251 

green,  the  scarlet  tufts  of  the  tillandsias,  and  the 
sudden  splendid  glow  of  pink  or  yellow  or  pale 
violet  of  a  high-perched  orchid. 

Traversing  rapidly  this  silent,  ink-hued  lagoon, 
ware  steered  the  Boto  to  a  tiny  passage  that 
opened  out  in  what  seemed  like  an  impervious 
wall  of  bushes  twined  with  a  tangle  of  vines.  The 
water  lane  was  here  so  narrow  that  the  sides  of 
the  boat  touched  the  bushes  and  big,  rank  ferns 
brushed  their  rust-tipped  fronds  against  it.  Lusty 
liliaceous  plants  with  emerald  velvet  leaves  stood 
in  ranks  in  the  shallow  water,  without  motion  in 
that  brooding  fastness. 

This  lane  in  turn  presently  widened  to  a  pretty 
pool,  open,  sunny,  with  bright  green  grassy  sides 
that  looked  like  some  familiar  pasture;  it  wa^ 
when  they  were  about  halfway  across  that  the 
Boto's  speed  suddenly  lessened.  She  spluttered 
and  stopped.  Through  the  water  Margarita,  peer- 
ing over  the  side,  saw  lush  weeds  that  seemed  as  if 
they  had  been  only  lately  submerged;  the  whole 
pMce  was  like  a  meadow,  lightly  flooded  and  en- 
closed with  pleasant  woods.  Ware  left  the  wheel 
and  hung  over  the  stern.  '^The  propeller's  got 
tangled  up  with  these  confounded  weeds.  1^1  get 
out  and  clear  it.''  He  kicked  off  his  shoes  and 
climbed  over  the  side. 
''I  can  help  you." 

*'0h,  no!  You  stay  where  yon  are.  This  water 
looks  all  right,  but  there  might  be  piranhas  or 
something  .  .  .  your  foot  is  scratched  already." 
He  tore  away  the  matted  tangle  of  strong  weeds, 
climbed  back  into  the  Boto,  and  started  the  en- 
gine again.  *'I'm  afraid  there  isn't  very  much 
water  here,"  he  said,  taking  the  boat  slowly  and 
keeping  well  to  the  center.  There  was  no  current 


252  BLACK  GOLD 

in  this  flood,  and  no  signs  of  shoaling  were  vis- 
ible, but  all  at  once  the  boat's  speed  was  checked 
again  just  as  a  car  might  be  by  a  sudden  touch  of 
the  brake.  **Hang  it!  We've  touched  bottom," 
Ware  owned.  Over  the  stern  the  foaming  wake 
could  be  seen,  brown  and  discolored,  showing  that 
they  were  passing  over  a  patch  of  shallow  water. 
After  an  anxious  moment  or  two  the  boat  was 
going  as  fast  as  ever,  and  Ware  breathed  sighs 
of  relief  until,  luck  again  sulky,  the  Boto  jarred 
with  a  distinct  bump,  the  engine  slowed  and  by 
the  sound  of  the  exhaust  indicated  that  a  severe 
strain  was  being  put  upon  it.  It  was  obvious  that 
the  water  had  shoaled  until  the  propeller  was 
working  in  the  mud. 

There  was,  however,  nothing  to  do  but  to  at- 
tempt to  push  on.  Ware  eased  the  clutch,  let  the 
engine  speed  up,  and  then  clutched  up  again.  The 
Boto  jerked  forward  a  few  yards  before  the  en- 
gine slowed  once  more.  Then  he  put  the  engine 
into  neutral  again,  sent  Margarita  forward  to 
sound  with  the  boathook,  and  when  she  reported 
about  two  feet  of  water  he  called  out  to  her  to 
look  out  for  the  bump,  threw  the  clutch  in,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  the  boat  bounce 
forward  another  ten  yards  or  so.  Another  sound- 
ing showed  a  little  more  water  and  with  yet  an- 
other jerk  the  Boto  cleared  the  shoal  and  raced  on 
her  way. 

**I'm  afraid  that  hasn't  done  her  any  good,'* 
Ware  remarked,  listening  to  the  sharp  vibration 
and  knocking  that  told  of  something  strained  or 
loosened.  At  that  moment,  just  as  they  were 
about  to  enter  a  blue  palm-fringed  opening  edged 
with  tall  wild  cane,  a  small  canoe  shot  forward 
to  meet  them,  and  Vicente  cried  a  greeting.   He 


BLACK  GOLD  253 

climbed  aboard  the  Boto  and  they  went  on,  tow- 
ing the  montaria,  a  bark  canoe  so  narrow  that  the 
sides  touched  his  body  when  he  sat  in  it;  in  that 
order  they  quickly  traversed  the  cane-fringed 
igarape.  As  they  approached  the  Amazon  the 
character  of  both  water  and  vegetation  began  to 
change;  the  trees  were  more  varied,  with  a  wealth 
of  undergrowth  and  shrubs  and  palms:  the  water 
lost  its  dark  clear  stain  and  showed  a  muddy  jBioor 
when  disturbed  to  any  depth.  Half  a  mile  farther 
and  the  winding  water  lane,  intersected  as  many 
others  had  been  by  other  channels  that  opened 
out  m  a  network,  finally  broadened  into  a  palm- 
edged  lake  on  whose  southern  border  stood  a 
thatched  hut,  topping  a  steep  and  sandy  bank. 

In  front  of  the  dwelling,  which  was  little  more 
than  a  shed,  but  sweet  and  clean  and  backed  by 
garden  patches  of  mandioca  and  cacao,  lay  the 
igarite,  a  deep  and  strong  canoe  some  twenty-five 
feet  long  by  about  five  feet  broad;  a  rounded 
cover,  the  toldo,  thatched  with  leaves  and  bound 
with  lianes,  occupied  about  a  third  of  the  boat's 
length,  nearly  filling  the  space  between  the  mast 
and  the  stern.  The  chief  opening,  facing  the  mid- 
dle of  the  boat,  was  half  covered  with  a  bark 
screen,  and  there  was  another  small  opening  at 
the  back  from  which  a  fixed  paddle  was  operated 
as  a  rudder. 

All  EafaePs  family  came  down  to  the  water's 
edge:  a  couple  of  thickset,  sturdy  youths,  wear- 
ing nothmg  but  cotton  trousers  rolled  up  above 
the  knee;  EafaePs  Indian  wife,  rather  good  look- 
ing, with  a  broad  smile,  sleepy  eyes,  and  tattooed 
cheeks;  and  four  naked  little  children.  They 
offered  the  visitors  little  painted  cuias  full  of 
cachaga;  palm  fruit  of  the  forest,  and  bowls  of 


254  BLACK  GOLD 

mingao,  a  rather  distasteful  paste  made  with 
maize  and  water. 

Vicente  drank  three  or  four  of  the  little  cups 
of  strong  liquor  without  turning  a  hair,  his  placid 
face,  like  smooth  pale  wood,  never  changing,  and 
quickly  transferred  bundles  and  cases  from  the 
Boto  to  the  igarite,  adding  a  little  more  farinha, 
dried  piraracu  and  coffee.  Eafael's  wife  solemnly 
brought  and  tied  to  the  igarite 's  prow  a  root  of 
some  forest  plant — ^Jacuman,  for  luck. 

*'I  want  you  to  sit  under  the  shelter  of  the 
toldo,"  Ware  told  his  lady  passenger.  **The  sun 
is  frightfully  hot  in  the  open,  and  then  it's  just  as 
well  that  you  shouldn't  be  seen  ...  at  least,  I 
don't  want  anyone  to  look  at  you  but  me — this  is 
pure  jealousy,  you  understand,  Margarita.  And 
if  you  laugh  at  me  like  that  I  shall  kiss  you  in 
front  of  all  these  city  fathers  and  there  will  be  a 
scandal  on  the  Amazon — and  besides,  it's  my  de- 
cent duty  not  to  think  about  things  like  that  until 
we  get  to  Para,  isn't  it?" 

Margarita  meekly  withdrew  to  the  toldo,  John 
went  forward  to  the  Boto,  now  fastened  to  the 
igarite,  while  Rafael  and  Vicente,  long  paddles  in 
their  hands,  stood  up  on  the  front  of  the  igarite, 
now  made  fast  to  the  motor  boat. 

John  called  out  to  Margarita  as  he  started  the 
engine:  **Any  minute  after  we  get  into  the  main 
stream  we  may  meet  some  inquisitive  person, 
and  if  that  happens  I  may  cut  the  tow  rope  and 
ignore  you.  Don't  be  frightened  if  you  find  your- 
selves adrift."  Frightened!  Margarita  laughed. 
Now  she  was  neighbor  to  water  and  trees  she 
couldn't  be  frightened  any  more  .  .  .  only  city 
pavements  and  people  were  things  of  terror. 

Waving  farewells  to  the  assembled  family  on 


BLACK  GOLD  255 

the  lakeside,  they  started  at  a  fair  pace,  tlie  Boto 
vibrating  harshly  but  doing  her  work.  Traversing 
the  final  stretch  of  waterway  between  the  Negro 
and  the  Amazon,  they  saw  the  character  of  the 
forest  changing  yet  more  decisively.  Masses  of 
cana  brava  stood  waving  little  green  flags,  lighter 
foliage  appeared,  floating  water  plants  and  wild 
bananas  and  lilies  grew  thickly  at  the  muddy 
sides,  and  the  plumed  heads  of  palms  bent  for- 
ward from  the  forest  tangle.  As  the  sun  dropped 
the  woods  awoke  and  scores  of  clear,  ringing  bird 
voices  began  to  call  from  the  upper  branches.  As 
they  came  out  at  last  into  the  immense  and  sun- 
drenched Amazon,  a  mighty  golden  sweeping 
flood  rushing  past  the  tiny  water  lane  with  its  im- 
petuous torrent  laden  with  trophies  of  its  power, 
it  was  a  different  world  from  that  of  the  sombre 
forests  of  the  black  water. 

On  the  shallow  bank  at  the  point  where  they 
emerged,  a  crowd  of  white  wading  birds  were 
stalking;  the  vicious  mottled  heads  of  alliga- 
tors, their  long  mouths  opened  showing  the  cruel 
teeth  and  red  inner  skin,  lay  in  rows  on  the  shelv- 
ing edge,  half  in  the  water,  their  tiny  eyes  unmov- 
ing.  A  flock  of  bright  green  parrots  flew,  two  by 
two,  screaming  and  scolding  with  a  clatter  of  rau- 
cous tongues,  across  the  river.  Ware,  turning  the 
nose  of  the  Boto  downstream,  called  to  Marga- 
rita: ^*We  are  going  to  make  our  way  across, 
working  between  those  islands — that  one's  Pa- 
ciencia.  Then  we  can  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the 
river  steamers.  .  .  .  That  isn't  the  bank  you  see 
over  there:   that's  all  islands." 

Margarita  crawled  forward  and  called  to  him: 
**Are  we  going  to  stay  in  the  river?" 

**No!  No,  I  think  we  can  make  the  channels  on 


256  BLACK  GOLD 

the  south  without  losing  any  time.  Do  go  back  to 
the  toldo,  Margarita!  And  take  one  of  the  short 
paddles  just  in  case  of  accidents.  The  current's 
awfully  strong.'' 

Once  fairly  caught  in  the  fierce  Amazonian 
rush,  the  Boto  doubled  her  speed;  slowed  down 
by  the  igarite,  she  had  made  little  more  than  eight 
knots  since  they  left  Rafael's  lake,  and  now,  car- 
ried along  in  a  smooth  sweep,  the  two  boats 
danced  and  rocked.  Ware  took  the  churning 
water  at  a  slight  angle  trying  to  avoid  the  cen- 
tral uproar;  they  were  mercilessly  tossed  and 
shaken,  but  eventually  reached  the  shelter  of  an 
opening  between  two  thickly  wooded  islands,  run- 
ning into  a  narrow  channel  a  mile  long,  overhung 
with  bright  flowering  lianes,  full  of  singing  birds. 
Emerging  from  this  water  path,  they  negotiated 
another  racing  muddy  stretch,  borne  downwards 
by  the  pressure  of  the  current  so  far  that,  at  last 
arrived  in  the  calmer  waters  close  to  the  right 
bank,  they  found  that  they  had  been  carried  past 
the  opening  for  which  they  had  steered,  and  were 
obliged  to  turn  and  creep  back,  hugging  the  shore 
beneath  the  protection  of  the  spreading  trees. 

Entering  the  Autas-Miry  channel,  decked  with 
feathery  little  palms,  green  as  English  grass,  they 
traversed  it  with  caution  until  it  opened  out  into 
a  clear  blue  lake;  here  the  Boto  was  put  to  top 
speed  until  the  water  narrowed  again,  but  as  the 
water  was  still  of  considerable  width  they  were 
able  to  make  nine  or  ten  knots  with  the  current 
without  danger,  in  spite  of  the  long  twists  of  the 
channel  networks.  They  encountered  a  couple  of 
slim  montarias,  paddled  by  Indians  with  har- 
poons; here  and  there  a  tiny  thatched  hut  stood 
off  in  a  nook  by  the  water,  sometimes  backed  by 


BLACK  GOLD  257 

a  dense  array  of  pale-stemmed  cacao  trees,  hung 
with  red  pods;  but  when  night  fell  they  had  not 
met  more  than  five  or  six  people. 

With  darkness,  they  tied  up  to  a  convenient 
trunk  on  the  water's  edge  and  got  out  of  the  boats 
to  stretch  cramped  limbs.  Ware  and  the  two 
caboclos  made  a  fire,  cooked  food,  and  made  coffee. 
Margarita,  still  very  tired,  lay  in  the  hammock 
that  they  hung  for  her  near  the  fire  after  the  meal, 
and  slept  soundly  until  the  moon  rose  and  they 
decided  to  go  on  again.  When  Ware  helped  her 
from  the  hammock  she  stood  for  a  moment  look- 
ing at  the  velvet  dark  forest  with  a  moon  sailing 
overhead  so  bright  that  it  turned  the  water  to  a 
silver  ribbon  threading  through  the  marshalled 
trees,  thinking  with  a  pang  of  the  moon  above 
Manaos  on  the  previous  night.  As  they  went  on 
again  they  had  to  slow  the  Boto's  speed,  for  the 
water  lanes  narrowed  and  twisted  and  ran  into 
other  floods  and  little  creeks,  and  often  the  great 
forest  giants  closed  overhead  and  shrouded  the 
face  of  the  stream. 

The  night  was  very  clear.  No  rain  had  fallen 
all  day,  and  there  were  no  clouds  but  a  few  light 
wisps  that  trailed  across  the  moon.  The  stars 
seemed  to  be  in  enormous  quantity,  set  in  spark- 
ling masses  in  the  living  sky,  and  all  this  trans- 
parent array  of  lights  emphasized  the  brooding 
dark  of  the  forest,  the  black  tangle  of  under- 
growth and  vines. 

No  one  unacquainted  with  these  intricate  chan- 
nels could  have  guessed  the  right  direction  to  take 
among  the  forest  and  water  network;  but  Vicente, 
the  steering  wheel  in  his  hands,  sat  beside  Ware 
and  guided  the  Boto  without  hesitation  or  com- 
ment,   his    face    impassive.     They    turned    and 


258  BLACK  GOLD 

twisted,  passed  the  shoulders  of  long  islands  or 
peninsulas,  skirted  the  borders  of  wide  lagoons. 
At  the  sight  of  one  long  tree-covered  stretch  of 
land.  Ware  called  out  to  Margarita  that  this  was 
the  Ilha  da  Trinidade,  and  the  girl,  waking  from 
a  doze  through  which  she  still  heard  the  swish 
of  the  water  and  of  the  plants  that  brushed  the 
boat's  side,  presently  heard  him  say  that  a  dark 
line  on  their  left  must  be  the  Ilha  Grande  de 
Serpa. 

**Are  you  awake,  Margarita?"  Half  sitting  at 
trhe  entrance  to  her  shelter,  propped  up  on  the 
Boto's  blue  cushions,  she  waved  a  hand  to  him: 
''How  much  have  we  doneT' 

''About  a  hundred  miles.  Not  so  bad!"  He 
called  to  Eafael,  shut  off  the  engine,  ran  the  Boto 
close  alongside  the  near  bank  where  a  few  inches 
of  sand  showed  above  the  current,  jumped  ashore, 
and,  climbing  into  the  igarite,  as  the  motor 
started  again,  sat  down  on  one  of  the  thwarts  and 
said  with  a  smile: 

"By  Jove,  if  you  are  going  to  stay  awake, 
young  woman,  I  am  coming  and  talk  to  you  for 
ten  minutes.  I  will  go  away  as  soon  as  you  are 
tired,  but  I  had  to  come.  You  were  so  far  off,  I 
couldn't  see  whether  you  looked  happy  or  not. 
Let  me  see  your  face,  Margarita!" 

Without  answering,  she  turned  her  head  up  to 
the  moon,  remaining  silent,  the  light  full  upon  her 
untilJohn  whispered:  "Look  at  me!  I  am  afraid 
of  you  when  you  look  at  the  moon!  You  are  too 
beautiful,  and  you  seem  to  be  a  creature  not  quite 
real.  I  used  to  think  you  were  a  wood  fairy, 
Margarita  ..." 

At  that  she  laughed,  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
him:  "Indeed  I  am  real,  but  a  little  cold.  Isn't  it 


BLACK  GOLD  259 

nearly  morning?  An  hour  yet?  Let's  see  the  sun 
rise,  John.  You  shouldn't  go  away  and  leave  me 
for  such  a  long  time  when  there  are  wonderful 
things  to  look  af 

**0h,  Margarita!"  he  said,  pressing  her  little 
hands  to  his  face,  **as  if  you  don't  know  that  I  am 
doing  my  very  best  to  be  discreet — after  we  get  to 
Para  I  won't  leave  you  for  a  single  minute  all  the 
rest  of  my  life.  .  .  .  There 's  a  rug  under  the  cush- 
ions there;  let  me  wrap  you  up  in  it."  He  put  the 
rug  over  her  shoulders,  sat  by  her  side,  lit  a  cigar 
of  native  tobacco,  the  perfumed  tobacco  of  the 
upper  rivers,  and  with  her  hand  in  his  retook  the 
comradeship  of  the  moors.  It  seemed  to  both  that 
in  those  moments  of  moonlit  quiet  before  the 
dawn,  with  the  Boto  chugging  ahead,  the  rills  of 
racing  water  beside  them,  and  the  dark  leaning 
forest  on  their  right,  all  the  weight  of  nervous 
excitement  slipped  away  like  a  dropped  cloak. 

Here  was  respite,  an  hour's  peace;  they  did  not 
even  try  or  wish  to  touch  the  tremulous  happi- 
ness that  fluttered  before  their  hands,  thinking  of 
it  no  more  than  of  the  cast  fever  of  Manaos.  This 
hour  was  one  in  which  they  came  back  without 
effort  to  the  ready  friendship  of  the  first  days. 

As  they  sat,  silent  in  long  spaces,  now  and  then 
speaking  idly  of  the  boat,  the  water,  of  the  good 
Vicente  and  Rafael  whose  voices  came  in  gusts 
from  the  Boto,  the  memory  of  Luisinha  suddenly 
came  to  the  girl.  She  had  completely  forgotten 
that  affair,  and  as  she  recalled  it  now  she  was 
filled  with  astonishment  that  it  had  ever  seemed 
important.  She  said  to  herself  now,  calmly,  that 
it  didn't  matter  if  it  was  true;  she  was  sure  it 
didn't  matter.  It  was  a  past  thing,  past  before 
she  had  ever  known  John  Ware;  he  loved  her  and 


260  BLACK  GOLD 

she  loved  him,  and  he  was  not  a  man  ever  to  have 
done  a  thing  that  was  a  reproach.  In  that  mood 
she  said  to  him:  **Luisinha — won't  she  be  fright- 
ened, alone  in  the  seringal  by  herself!  Suppose 
the  Souzas  go  there  and  question  and  annoy 
herr' 

''Alone?  Where?''  His  voice  was  puzzled. 

*'In  your  seringal.''  He  turned  a  blank  face  to 
her.  ''Why,  my  heart,  Luisinha  doesn't  live  in 
the  seringal.  It  wouldn't  be  good  for  the  kiddies. 
She  always  stays  in  Manaos,  in  a  little  house 
Vicente's  got  on  the  Flores  bond  line;  an  old  aunt 
lives  with  her  and  helps  take  care  of  the 
children." 

I  Astonished,  Margarita  looked  at  him  in  silence. 
'  "Did  you  ever  notice  how  fair  that  eldest  child 
of  hers  is,  the  little  girl?  The  poor  Luisinha  has 
had  a  history  that  is  almost  tragic.  Her  face  tells 
you  that,  doesn't  it?" 

Margarita  murmured  something  inarticulate; 
Ware  went  on  in  a  low  voice: 

"I'll  tell  you  about  it;  I  don't  want  Vicente  to 
hear  me,  he's  such  a  good  chap,  and  he  was  aw- 
fully cut  up;  these  Indian-blood  people  seem  so 
stolid,  but  they  are  extraordinarily  tender- 
hearted. He  and  Luisinha  are  both  natives  of 
Ceara,  people  of  the  drought  country;  they  were 
near  neighbors,  grew  up  together,  always  in 
love  ...  I  don't  believe  Vicente  ever  has  loved 
or  could  love  or  even  look  at  another  woman;  he 
has  a  genuine  passion  for  her. 

"He  was  one  of  a  big  family,  and  when  he  was 
nineteen  or  so  and  wanted  to  marry  Luisinha, 
neither  of  them  had  a  penny,  and  he  came  to  the 
Amazon  as  the  quickest  way  of  making  some 
money.  His  elder  brother  Rafael  was  already  here, 


BLACK  GOLD  261 

married  to  the  Indian  woman  you  saw  at  the  lit- 
tle lake.  That  was  four  years  ago,  and  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  run  across  him  at  that  time,  when 
I  was  fresh  to  the  Amazon  too.  He  is  a  splendid 
fellow:  he  can  do  anything  on  earth,  is  as  strong 
as  a  horse,  and  absolutely  devoted;  he  stayed  with 
me  two  years,  saving  his  money  all  the  time  and 
counting  the  days  until  he  could  go  back  and 
fetch  Luisinha.  When  I  left  the  Amazon  to  take  a 
holiday  at  home,  he  came  down  the  river  with 
me  to  Para,  promising  to  be  there  again  in  four 
months'  time  when  I  returned.  But  he  wasn't, 
and  I  could  hear  nothing  of  him,  and  concluded 
that  something  must  have  happened  to  him.  I 
never  saw  him  again  or  knew  the  rest  of  the  story 
until  you  chanced  to  notice  him  on  board  the 
Pomha  coming  up  the  river." 

He  glanced  forward  at  Vicente's  face, 
impassive  at  the  wheel. 

*^  While  he  had  been  away  upriver,  Luisinha 's 
father  and  mother  both  died  and  she  had  been 
taken  into  the  house  of  a  relative  in  Ceara.  Some- 
how or  other  she  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an 
unscrupulous  brute  of  a  cousin.  Rather  a  fool  too, 
I  should  think.  It  always  seems  to  me  such  mad 
folly  to  treat  a  woman  badly.  Of  course  I  don't 
know  all  the  circumstances,  but  anyhow,  there  she 
was,  unmarried,  with  a  baby  girl  at  her  skirts. 
She  was  almost  dying  of  wretchedness  when 
Vicente  returned  from  the  Amazon,  but  they  seem 
to  have  gone  straight  into  each  other's  arms.  He 
married  her  at  once,  nursed  her  until  she  was  well, 
and  then  the  cousin  came  back  to  the  village  and 
had  a  row  with  Vicente,  and  Vicente  killed  him." 

**0h !  But  how  did  he  manage — ^not  to  be 

punished?" 


262  BLACK  GOLD 

''Brazil's  unwritten  law.  These  'crimes  of  pas- 
sion' are  generally  excused,  if  they're  excusable. 
Vicente  had  a  few  months  in  jail,  after  a  delayed 
trial,  and  then  somebody  got  him  a  pardon.  By 
this  time  they  had  a  new  baby  of  their  own,  and 
decided  to  come  to  Manaos.  I  think  the  pardon 
was  quite  right.  I  have  been  long  enough  in  coun- 
tries where  women  can't  take  care  of  themselves 
very  well  to  agree  with  that  unwritten  law.  .  .  . 
Look,  my  sweet,  there's  the  first  finger  of  dawn." 

The  girl  stood  up,  looking  away  from  him  to 
the  eastern  sky,  suffused  with  clear  rose  above 
the  indigo  line  of  forest.  She  was  ashamed,  and 
thought  wildly  for  a  minute  of  telling  John  the 
thing  she  had  believed  for  a  number  of  days,  clos- 
ing her  lips  upon  speech  as  she  realized  the  mor- 
tal indignity  she  had  contemplated.  She  put  out 
a  timid  hand  to  his  shoulder,  felt  herself  caught  to 
his  heart,  and  with  her  face  buried  vowed  that 
he  should  never  know.  When  he  kissed  her  she 
gave  back  to  him  the  kiss  of  a  woman  in  love. 
Beyond  his  shoulder  she  saw  new  dawn:  the  sheet 
of  rose  blushed  upwards,  turned  the  far  height 
to  amethyst.  All  the  verdure  of  the  forest  and 
the  rippling  line  of  the  water  as  they  passed  took 
on  deep  and  brilliant  colors. 

"I  am  sleepy,  John,"  said  Margarita  in  a 
child's  voice.  She  lay  and  slept  while  he  watched 
the  coming  of  the  blazing  day, 


XXI. 

WHEN  she  awoke  she  saw  that  the  Boto  and 
her  convoy  lay  in  a  little  creek  shut  in  by  tiny 
cliffs  of  the  red  tabatinga  clay,  streaked  rosy  and 
tawny;  light  verdure,  like  that  of  a  sunny  wood 
in  any  temperate  zone,  crowned  the  cliff,  and  the 
mauve  spikes  of  water  hyacinth  glistened  in  the 
bright  air,  dancing  on  the  water.  A  dozen  yards 
away  rose  the  smoke  of  a  fire,  where  Rafael  and 
Vicente  negotiated  the  cooking  pots;  the  scent  of 
coffee  drifted  along  the  creek.  She  stepped  out 
of  the  igarite  on  to  the  narrow  strip  of  shore,  and 
met  Ware  descending;  she  borrowed  a  comb  from 
him,  climbed  upon  the  bank  to  look  about  her, 
and,  finding  a  rivulet  that  made  a  miniature  fall 
over  the  little  cliff,  bathed  her  face  and  hands 
and  arranged  her  scant  clothes  as  well  as  she 
could. 

**"What  a  test  of  love!"  she  said,  looking  at  her 
reflection  in  the  water.  **To  travel  for  three  days 
in  a  black  mantilla  and  a  camisole  and  a  torn 
blue  cotton  skirt!  At  least  he'll  have  no  illusions 
about  me."  But  when,  coming  back  to  the  camp, 
she  looked  closely  at  John,  she  saw  that  he  too 
was  dressed  for  the  Amazon.  He  wore  a  native 
straw  hat,  a  collarless  cotton  shirt  tucked  into  a 
pair  of  old  blue  trousers,  and  wore  alpargatas  on 
his  feet.  He  apologized  humbly:  ^^One  doesn't 
want  to  be  conspicuous  .  .  .  but  I  am  rather 
ashamed  to  escort  you,  dearest,  for  you  are  so 
beautiful."   She  squeezed  his  arm  boldly.   They 

263 


264  BLACK  GOLD 

sat  cross-legged  on  the  ground  and  ate  their  black 
beans  and  bits  of  stewed  fish  with  the  hunger  of 
the  outdoor  campaigner.  As  they  drank  the  last 
drops  of  coffee  he  asked  her  if  she  knew  where 
she  was.  Oh,  no! 

**Very  well!  We  crossed  the  Amazon  to  the  left 
bank  while  you  were  still  fast  asleep,  Margarita. 
We  are  well  past  Serpa,  I  don't  know  just  how 
far,  and  headed  for  Obidos."  She  interrupted 
him  giggling: 

**I  could  go  and  hunt  for  father's  stone  turtle 
there,  couldn't  I?" 

*^I'm  afraid  you  must  wait  till  we  elope  th^ 
next  time,  Margarita.  Now,  the  question  is 
whether  we  should  stick  to  the  Amazon  hence- 
forth, or  whether  we  should  enter  the  chain  of 
water  paths  on  the  north.  There  is  a  wonderful 
row  of  lakes  and  backwaters  all  the  way  to  Obi- 
dos.  But  this  region  is  out  of  my  beat,  and  the 
boys  don't  know  it  at  all.  We  might  waste  a  lot 
of  time  trying  to  find  the  way." 

Taking  Vicente  into  consultation,  he  decided 
to  hug  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  keeping  well 
under  the  shelter  of  the  forest  and  avoiding  the 
treacherous  head  wind  as  much  as  they  could. 
Emerging  from  the  creek  into  the  Amazon,  a 
golden  and  dazzling  flood,  they  got  up  speed 
quickly  and  made  fourteen  or  fifteen  knots  with 
the  help  of  the  current.  Eafael  and  Vicente  ran 
the  Boto,  while  Ware  stood  in  the  prow  of  the  big 
canoe  armed  with  a  long  stout  paddle,  on  the  look- 
out for  snags.  But  such  floating  trees  and 
branches  as  there  were  rolled  in  the  angry  central 
race,  and  fortune  kept  safe  the  little  craft. 

They  sped  past  miles  of  cacao  plantations,  with 
long  low  houses  perched  on  the  bank,  open  to  the 


BLACK  GOLD  265 

sun  and  all  eyes;  ran  past  inlets  and  tiny  farms; 
then  again  found  themselves  running  in  deep 
shadow  as  great  trees  overhung  the  water  and 
swung  a  screen  of  creepers  far  out.  In  the  open 
reaches  an  insufferable  heat  beat  down  when  the 
head  wind  dropped. 

Along  a  stretch  of  clear  water,  "Ware  came  and 
sat  beside  the  girl  at  the  door  of  her  little  shel- 
ter,  spreading  his  map  before  her. 

*'At  Serpa  we  had  made  nearly  a  hundred  and 
twenty  miles.  Now,  going  at  this  clip,  with  a 
strong  current  and  no  wind  against  us,  we  must 
be  doing  twenty  knots,  although  we're  towing. 
But  weVe  still  got  something  like  seven  hundred 
miles  to  make  before  we  get  to  Para. ' ' 

**It  does  sound  a  long  way,''  she  agreed  seri- 
ously, and  he  laughed. 

**You  darling  child,  this  is  quite  a  long  river 
^-compared  to  the  Sansoe.  We  shall  pass  Villa 
Bella  at  midday,  with  luck — another  hundred 
miles.  Then  Obidos,  nearly  a  hundred  more,  be- 
fore sundown,  even  if  we  stop  an  hour  to  get  some 
food.   Are  you  hungry,  Margarita  f 

*'No.  It's  too  hot  for  beans  and  farinha.'^ 

**Ah,  didn't  I  tell  you  the  tropics  was  no  place 
for  food?  There's  too  much  climate  and  not 
enough  weather.  I  am  sure  you  need  really  abom- 
inable weather  to  enjoy  food.  .  .  .  The  Cafe 
Eoyal  and  a  cold  London  drizzle  outside  and  a 
grilled  sole.  .  .  .  Margarita,  do  you  realize  that 
if  I  am  right  about  my  rubber  process,  we  shall 
be  able  to  afford  a  grilled  sole  now  and  again 
when  we're  married?  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't 
say  that,  in  spite  of  all  my  vows,  considering  we 
may  get  to  Santarem  to-night,  and  that's  halfway 
to  Para.  ..."  She  laughed  at  this,  and  he  guided 


266  BLACK  GOLD 

her  finger  to  the  Tapajos.  **If  we  were  a  steamer, 
we  could  get  to  Para  from  Santarem  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  Are  you  tired  of  our  river,  Margarita 
sweet  r' 

*'I  won't  tell  you.  You  laughed  at  my  little 
Sansoe  just  now."  She  smiled,  but  went  on  al- 
most anxiously:  **John  Ware,  do  you  know  that 
I  love  my  moors  and  little  brooks?  Very  much 
indeed.  I  shall  never  love  anything  else  quite  so 
much.  Do  you  mind?  Do  you  think  you  will 
mindr' 

He  dropped  his  map  and  took  both  her  hands. 

** Heart  of  me,  I  don't  mind  how  many  things  or 
how  many  people  you  love  if  you'll  keep  a  nest  in 
your  soul  for  me,  always  let  my  invisible  hand 
stay  in  yours  even  when  you  are  with  others,  and 
come  back  to  me  at  the  end  of  the  day.'* 

She  looked  back  deep  into  his  eyes  and  said 
after  a  moment  in  a  whisper,  **I  think,  I  think  we 
should  both  always  come  back  to  our  house  of 
faery. ' '  She  had  not  yet  said  a  word  of  her  sight 
of  it  from  the  crest  above  Manaos,  but  now  be- 
gan to  tell  him.  **I  saw  it,  among  the  forest,  ever 
so  far  away  and  just  as  plainly,  with  the  smoke 
from  the  chimney  and  the  flowers  in  the  little  gar- 
den and  the  stepping-stones  .  .  .  when  I  was  run- 
ning away  from  Manaos  that  night.  It  seems  so 
long  ago.  When  I  reached  the  forest  edge  I  was 
afraid  I  could  never  find  you,  but  I  saw  the  house 
of  faery  and  then  I  knew  I  should. ' ' 

*'You  saw  it?  Oh,  my  little  love!  Tell  me,  tell 
me!"  He  was  greatly  moved,  and  listened  to  her 
intently  as  she  tried  to  explain.  **It  was  among 
the  trees.  I  stood  on  the  ridge  and  looked  into  the 
forest  up  the  black  river — where  I  thought  the 
black  river  must  run.  I  could  smell  the  flowers. 


BLACK  GOLD  267 

The  white  wall  was  quite  plain  in  the  sunshine. 
It  was  beautiful  to  see  it.  I  didn't  mind  anything 
then.'' 

*'0h,  Margarita!"  He  pressed  her  hands  to  his 
eyes,  and  presently  asked  her,  *^Did  you  know 
you  belonged  there?" 

**  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  I  knew  you  belonged  there 
too,"  she  smiled. 

''You  are  mine,  you  know,"  he  said.  **As  I  am 
yours. " 

''Yes,  of  course,"  she  replied  again,  quite 
simply. 

"I  know  you  are  a  wood  sprite  and  that  I 
shall  never  be  quite  sure  I  have  you  .  .  .  but  if 
you'll  do  what  you  said  just  now,  and  always 
come  back  to  our  house  of  faery  .  .  ." 

Vicente's  shout  interrupted  him,  and  he 
jumped  to  the  prow,  picking  up  the  paddle,  in 
time  to  save  the  canoe  from  more  than  a  bruising 
jar  against  a  heavy  tree  trunk  wedged  among 
weeds. 

With  the  cessation  of  the  breeze  the  sky  grad- 
ually became  overcast  and  the  air  grew  heavy. 
Fearful  lest  the  threatened  rain  should  presently 
make  it  impossible  to  build  a  fire,  they  made  fast 
under  a  huge  silk-cotton  tree,  hurriedly  prepared 
food  and  coffee,  and  finished  a  scrambled  meal 
just  as  the  steady  downpour  began.  Sheets  of 
gray  water  fell  vertically,  dimpling  the  yellow 
river,  veiling  the  leaden  sky. 

As  the  Boto  started  again  they  ran  into  sullen 
water  that  rolled  in  long  lines;  the  forest  slowly 
retreated,  and  the  distant  shore  disappeared  al- 
together from  sight.  A  couple  of  steamers  that 
passed,  churning  their  way  upriver,  sending 
snarling   waves    against   the    two    small   boats, 


268  BLACK  GOLD 

seemed  monstrous  seen  through  the  wet  shroud. 
The  Amazon  was  nothing  but  a  neutral-tinted 
desert,  desolate,  hopeless,  limitless. 

Margarita,  sitting  cross-legged  under  the  toldo 
wrapped  in  a  waterproof  cape  of  Ware's,  re- 
mained dry,  but  the  three  men  were  soaked 
through  in  a  few  minutes.  The  heavy  downpour 
did  not  seem  to  retard  the  Boto;  she  ploughed 
along  gallantly,  but  Ware  listened  to  a  continuous 
sullen  vibration  with  increasing  anxiety.  He  con- 
cluded that  something  was  seriously  wrong,  and, 
since  repairs  were  out  of  the  question,  the  best 
thing  to  do  was  to  get  the  last  possible  mile  out 
of  her.  He  stayed  at  the  wheel  with  Vicente,  and 
they  pushed  the  motor  as  much  as  they  dared  in 
the  veil  of  rain.  They  passed  Villa  Bella,  invis- 
ible. Later,  when  the  sun  came  out  brilliantly, 
drying  their  thin  clothes  in  a  few  minutes,  they 
considered  putting  into  Obidos  to  get  petrol.  But, 
with  the  knocking  sound  getting  rather  worse, 
they  decided  against  that  visit,  pushed  on  past 
the  white  walls  of  the  riverside  city  with  its  ship- 
ping lying  before  it,  giving  the  wide  mouth  of  the 
Trombetas  a  clear  berth.  There  was  a  light  wind 
behind  them  now,  and,  taking  a  chance  for  once, 
they  steered  into  the  central  current  and  got  all 
the  help  possible  from  the  race.  Their  speed  re- 
duced the  possibility  of  an  accident  from  an  ugly 
snag. 

They  ran  in  this  way  until  nearly  sundown, 
when  the  cliffs  of  Santarem,  with  the  city  spread 
at  its  feet,  came  into  sight  on  the  southern  shore. 
Here  they  decided  to  make  a  cautious  landing, 
and  as  the  sky  turned  burning  red  and  blazed  in 
the  golden  water  of  the  Amazon,  Ware  steered 
the  Boto  into  the  black  water  of  the  Tapajos.  Its 


BLACK  GOLD  269 

strange  flood  did  not  mingle  with  the  Amazon, 
but  flowed  beside  it,  gradually  streaking  out,  and 
in  the  sunset  its  dark  ripples  were  tipped  with 
fire  like  a  string  of  garnets.  Night  had  fallen, 
still  and  heavy,  before  they  made  a  landing  below 
the  town,  and  it  was  not  until  they  had  fortified 
their  courage  with  black  coffee  that  Ware  and 
Margarita  dared  to  creep  through  the  sleepy  by- 
ways into  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  For  they  had 
made  up  their  minds  that  Santarem  must  furnish 
the  lady's  traveling  clothes  henceforth,  for  a  com- 
paratively respectable  entry  into  Para.  A  cheerful 
little  shop  in  a  straggling  side  street  furnished 
her  with  a  pair  of  high-heeled  French  shoes  and 
white  cotton  stockings.  A  stealthy  search  re- 
vealed not  a  single  store  open  where  anything 
like  a  decent  dress  could  be  bought,  but  an  oblig- 
ing senhora  found  sitting  in  a  doorway  answered 
their  appeal  by  rising  to  the  occasion  herself  and 
selling  Margarita  a  white  muslin  blouse  with  too 
much  lace  on  it.  A  hat,  now!  That  proved  to  be 
the  real  stumbling-block.  By  daylight,  in  the 
really  noble  shops,  of  course,  one  might  have 
found  something,  even  halfway  up  the  Amazon 
.  .  .  but  after  dark,  in  the  side  streets.  .  .  .  They 
compromised  by  buying  a  big  native  straw,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  would  have  to 
enter  Para  when  it  was  dark. 

Returning  to  the  boats,  they  decided  that  it 
was  not  wise  to  try  to  run  the  Boto  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  early  night,  although  Vicente  volun- 
teered to  do  his  best  with  her:  Neither  he  nor 
Rafael  ever  seemed  to  want  more  than  four  hours  * 
sleep  in  each  twenty-four.  They  would  wait  for 
the  moon,  resting  until  she  rose.  But  the  skies  re- 
mained heavy  and  overcast,  although  no  mora 


270  BLACK  GOLD 

rain  fell,  and  it  was  not  until  the  first  streak  of 
dawn  lit  the  east  above  the  forest  that  Ware 
thought  it  well  to  try  to  push  on. 

The  Boto  was  by  this  time  running  with  a  dis- 
tressing noise  and  making  a  considerable  amount 
of  water  aft,  although  keeping  up  a  fair  speed.  It 
was  clear  that  this  state  of  things  could  not  last 
long,  and  after  they  had  been  traveling  for  an 
hour  Ware  was  not  unduly  surprised  when  the 
engine  began  to  race,  the  vibration  ceased,  and 
the  Boto  gradually  slowed  down  and  stopped. 
Switching  off  the  engine  he  leaned  over  the  stern, 
but  could  neither  see  through  the  muddy  water 
nor  reach  far  enough  under  the  overhanging  stem 
to  find  out  just  what  was  wrong.  With  Vicente's 
help  he  paddled  her  to  the  bank,  casting  off  the 
igarite  and  leaving  her  in  EafaePs  care,  and  then 
slipping  over  the  side  he  felt  cautiously  for  the 
propeller  shaft  but  found  nothing  there.  Exam- 
ing  farther,  he  was  confirmed  in  his  fears  that  the 
shaft  had  broken  just  outside  the  stern  tube,  and 
that  the  broken  part,  propeller,  and  bracket  were 
all  missing. 

** She's  done  for,  this  trip.  We  shall  have  to 
leave  her,"  Ware  called  to  Margarita.  They 
found  a  tiny  water  opening  a  hundred  yards 
farther  on,  paddled  the  Boto  towards  it  and 
pushed  her  in,  wedging  her  sides  into  the  stiff 
clay  and  concealing  her  with  the  thick  bushes  that 
grew  down  to  the  margin.  All  her  portable  fittings 
were  quickly  transferred  to  the  igarite,  and  then, 
hoisting  the  blue-dyed  sail,  they  abandoned  the 
Boto  and  set  out  on  the  last  half  of  the  journey. 
There  was  a  light  breeze  blowing  from  the  north- 
west, and  with  Rafael  and  Vicente  attendant  upon 
the  sail  while  Ware  operated  a  long  paddle  and 


BLACK  GOLD  271 

Margarita  steered  with  the  fixed  blade  at  the 
back,  they  skimmed  along  beside  the  right  bank 
without  feeling  too  humble,  even  when  a  big  Eng- 
lish steamer  from  Iquitos  bore  down  the  middle 
of  the  river  and  nearly  washed  them  into  the 
thorny  bushes.  When  they  became  hungry 
enough  to  think  about  breakfast,  it  was  in  vain 
that  they  searched  for  a  landing  place  until  at 
length  they  came  upon  a  little  red-clay  eminence 
with  an  ambitiously  built  wooden  house  standing 
on  it.  ''LenJia/'  painted  upon  a  big  signboard, 
told  the  little  passing  river  steamers  that  they 
could  buy  wood  for  fuel  here. 

Tied  up  to  the  posts  in  front  of  the  house  was, 
indeed,  one  of  these  small  craft,  of  the  kind 
*^ guaranteed  to  sail  on  a  heavy  dew''  that  run  up 
a  hundred  of  the  Amazonian  water  byways,  fetch- 
ing and  carrying  and  doing  all  the  odd  jobs  of  the 
tremendous  riverine  areas  that  the  big  steamers 
disdain  and  the  trading  canoes  leave  undone.  This 
little  gaiola  was  now  returning  to  Para  with  an 
assortment  of  f orestal  drugs,  a  few  bags  of  cacao, 
some  caucho  rubber,  a  stack  of  dried  fish,  and  a 
precious  load  of  castanha — '^Brazil" — and  the 
big  sweet  sapucaia  nuts. 

The  captain,  a  big  stout  half  Indian  with  eyes 
that  twinkled  and  disappeared  in  his  broad  fat 
cheeks  when  he  laughed,  hailed  the  igarite  pleas- 
antly, offering  them  help  in  tying  up,  and  sending 
a  negro  boy  to  them  with  a  pan  of  live  charcoal 
to  forward  the  preparation  of  almoQo.  He  was 
going  on  in  half  an  hour:  did  they  want  a  tow? 
He  urged  this  kindness  with  the  ready  comrade- 
ship of  the  river.  And  could  they  lend  him  some 
sugar?  They  could  and  did,  but  after  a  hurried 
consultation  decided  not  to  accept  the  tow.    The 


272  BLACK  GOLD 

gaiola  was  sure  to  take  the  middle  of  the  river, 
and  this  was  ^n  impetuous-running  part  of  the 
Amazon.  They  were  doing  very  well  by  them- 
selves, with  the  breeze  in  their  bright  blue  sail. 

When  they  went  on  they  were  able  to  run  al- 
most in  shadow,  close  to  the  right  bank  where  high 
arching  trees  spread  well  over  the  water,  hanging 
a  curtain  of  flowering  vines  between  the  sheltered 
water  path  and  the  blaze  of  the  open  river.  The 
water  looked  smooth,  but  ran  with  immense 
power,  singing  against  the  sturdy  dark-green 
water  plants.  They  were  so  close  to  the  forest  that 
once  Margarita,  sitting  against  the  corner  of  the 
toldo,  could  almost  have  stretched  out  her  hand 
and  touched  the  bizarre  painted  body  of  a  big 
toucan  that  sat  on  a  low  branch,  his  enormous 
rainbow-colored  bill  half  open  as  if  with  aston- 
ishment. 

With  constant  good  luck  in  the  matter  of  wind, 
they  traveled  fast  all  the  rest  of  that  day,  taking 
turns  to  steer  and  sail  the  steady  little  craft; 
there  was  no  other  stop,  for  Margarita  heated 
tins  of  soup  over  the  pan  of  charcoal,  and  they 
poured  mandioca  flour  into  their  bowls  and  ate 
contentedly.  When  night  fell  they  were  running 
past  sheer  forest  walls  with  no  sign  of  an  open- 
ing. With  dropped  wind,  a  straight-falling  driz- 
zling rain,  and  the  sail  useless,  they  were  using 
three  paddles  constantly,  each  of  the  four  taking 
a  rest  in  turn.  The  disappearance  of  the  sun  her- 
alded the  closing  in  of  complete  blackness,  in 
which  they  precariously  crept  along,  burning  a 
torch  in  order  to  keep  clear  of  tangling  bushes 
and  to  seek  a  landing  place. 

About  half  an  hour  after  nightfall,  a  light  sud- 
denly twinkled  in  front,  and  they  almost  ran  into 


BLACK  GOLD  273 

the  posts  of  a  palm-thatched  hut  that  stood  in 
the  water.  They  hailed  the  dwellers  with  a  bless- 
ing, intending  to  ask  only  for  permission  to  tie  up 
to  the  family  canoe-hitching  post.  But  when  a 
dark,  frail  woman  with  a  baby  on  her  hip  came 
to  the  shutter  space  and  saw  the  big  canoe,  she  at 
once  courteously  invited  the  travelers  into  her 
house.  Her  husband  and  son  were  away,  she  said, 
and  she  would  be  glad  of  the  company  of  gente 
decente;  she  smiled  at  Margarita,  and  accepted  a 
present  of  coffee  with  grace. 

Her  house  was  built  on  a  simple  plan;  half  was 
completely  sheltered,  and  was  hung  with  a  couple 
of  cotton  hammocks;  the  rest  was  screened  only 
on  two  sides,  and  here  a  string  hammock  was  sus- 
pended. The  family  stores  hung  from  the  roof, 
there  were  a  couple  of  stools,  a  few  half  gourds, 
a  painted  tin  box,  the  portrait  of  a  saint  with  a 
candle  in  front  of  it;  hardly  anything  more.  But 
the  manners  of  the  hostess  would  have  honored 
any  palace.  She  helped  the  visitors  to  prepare 
their  supper  and  offered  Margarita  her  own  ham- 
mock in  the  interior  room.  But  the  girl  could  not 
endure  the  oppressive  inner  air  and  elected  to 
sleep  in  the  outside  hammock,  while  the  three 
men  went  back  to  the  igarite. 

All  night  the  girl  lay  across  the  hammock, 
hearing  the  soft  passing  of  the  river  under  the 
hut,  the  stealthy  movements  of  the  forest  behind 
her,  black,  close-ranked,  and  secret,  and  from  time 
to  time  the  strange  wild  cry  of  some  hidden 
creature.  She  slept  little,  tormented  by  the  mos- 
quitoes and  the  tiny,  more  maddening  flies  that 
sang  over  her  head  and  bit  remorselessly  at  her 
uncovered  neck  and  hands  and  feet. 

Next  morning,  it  seemed  as  if  luck  had  turned 


274  BLACK  GOLD 

against  them.  The  air  was  stifling,  with  not  the 
ghost  of  a  breeze,  and  with  the  full  dawn  a  steady 
screen  of  rain  began  to  fall.  Margarita  was  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  the  veranda,  bathing  her 
swollen  and  fevered  ankles  when  Ware  came  out 
from  the  toldo.  '*My  poor  little  dear!"  he  said, 
looking  upon  her  with  distress,  and  at  once  went 
back,  grouped  among  his  packages,  and  emerged 
with  a  tiny  bottle  of  oil  that  he  smeared  over  the 
bites.  Margarita  thought  the  smell  of  the  oil 
rather  worse  than  the  stinging  bites,  but  held  her 
tongue. 

When  they  had  drunk  coffee  they  started 
again  after  many  courtesies,  with  all  three  now 
paddling  while  the  girl  steered.  A  head  wind 
lashed  the  rain  and  river  against  them,  and  they 
made  slow  progress.  They  worked  doggedly, 
soaked  to  the  skin,  until  about  ten  o'clock  the 
rain  ceased  suddenly  and  a  bright  sun  came  out. 
The  river  was  like  a  steam  bath  for  a  little  while, 
and  presently  all  the  world  smiled,  trees  and  river 
shining.  An  hour  later,  they  rounded  a  bend  and 
came  upon  the  gaiola,  engaged  as  before  in  tak- 
ing on  wood  for  her  fires.  The  captain,  greeting 
them  like  bosom  friends  restored,  roared  at  the 
immense  joke  of  a  canoe  overtaking  his  steamer: 
but  he  had  spent  the  night  with  his  padrinho,  at 
this  station.  Would  they  have  a  tow  now? 

They  would,  when  Margarita  threw  her  vote 
in  its  favor,  and  thence  sped  onward  at  a  re- 
spectable speed  in  the  wake  of  the  stocky  little 
trader.  Ware  and  the  caboclos  took  it  in  turn  to 
sit  at  the  prow,  paddle  in  hand,  to  try  to  avert 
any  possible  trouble  with  floating  debris,  but  the 
light  igarite,  although  threatened  more  than  once 


BLACK  GOLD  275 

with  islands  of  weeds  and  branches,  pushed  them 
aside  or  danced  over  them  without  injury. 

The  river  remained  hazy,  with  a  rather  sub- 
dued sun  that  set  in  an  orange  glow,  but  there 
was  no  more  rain.  About  noon  the  little  steamer 
stopped  to  deliver  a  bolt  of  red  cotton  cloth  at  a 
tiny  village,  and  courteously  invited  Ware^s 
party  on  board  for  lunch.  When  the  meal  was 
over  he  drew  Ware  aside  and  suggested  that  the 
lady,  at  whom  he  had  looked  with  a  kind  of 
admiring  pity,  should  come  aboard  the  gaiola.  .  .  . 
He  had  little  accommodation,  but  the  boat's  re- 
sources were  at  her  disposition  ...  it  was  plain 
that  the  lady  was  not  accustomed  to  live  in 
canoes  .  .  . 

Ware  thanked  him,  repeated  the  offer,  and 
found  it  coldly  received.  Not  now  at  least!  He 
must  let  her  go  back  to  the  igarite  till  nightfall. 
She  took  up  her  post  at  the  steering  paddle  with 
a  professional  air.  The  long  afternoon  passed 
without  incident;  the  canoe  swayed  and  flew 
behind  the  snorting  little  steamer,  with  lines  of 
perpetual  green  forest  in  an  unending  vista.  The 
caboclos  sang  softly  as  they  sat  forward,  their  eyes 
on  the  river  and  heavy  sticks  in  their  hands, 
ready  for  accidents,  with  Ware  at  the  prow.  At 
sundown  the  captain  stopped  for  another  call, 
taking  on  a  few  balls  of  rubber  and  buying  a 
dozen  bunches  of  green  bananas  from  a  cheerful 
friend  who  offered  hospitality  to  all  his  visitors. 
They  accepted  the  ceremonial  coffee,  and  Ware 
managed  to  buy  a  chicken,  subsequently  slain  and 
stewed  with  a  handful  of  peppers  over  a  blazing 
camp  fire,  but  Margarita  did  not  want  to  go  into 
the  house.  They  ate  supper  on  a  tiny  spit  of  white 


276  BLACK  GOLD 

sandy  ground  with  a  feathery  background  of 
pahns. 

Here,  while  the  caboclos  washed  the  scant 
dishes  and  talked  interminably,  Ware  took  the 
girl's  hand  and  spoke  with  seriousness. 

''My  heart,  do  you  know  what  is  the  most  sen- 
sible thing  for  you  to  do  now!  You  should,  you 
really  must,  Margarita,  go  on  board  the  gaiola. 
She  is  a  funny  little  tub,  but  she  is  steady  and 
safe,  and  you  can  be  much  more  comfortable.  She 
is  a  palace  compared  to  the  canoe — and  you  have 
spent  three  days  in  this  way  already.  I  must  not 
let  you  suffer  these  discomforts  any  longer.  There 
is  no  need  for  it." 

*'I  like  it,"  she  protested.  He  took  no  notice. 

''Please,  my  sweet,  let  me  put  you  in  charge  of 
that  very  decent  old  captain.  I  will  send  Vicente 
to  look  after  you  too  if  you  like." 

She  regarded  him  innocently. 

"And  what  about  you,  John  Waref " 

"It  would  not  be  very  discreet  of  me  to  come 
with  you.  Now  would  it?  My  precious  child,  I 
am  giving  you  the  chance,  I  hope  you  see,  to  leave 
me  for  a  little  while.  You  will  never  in  your  life 
get  rid  of  me  altogether.  But  for  your  entry  into 
Para,  dear,  wouldn't  it  look  better-- — "  ^ 

She  began  to  laugh,  her  head  against  his  sleeve. 
"You  are  talking  like — like  Mrs.  Grenville,"  she 
said,  and,  sitting  up,  began  to  scold  him. 

"Why,  John  Ware,  you  want  to  spoil  my  adven- 
ture! Here  you  are  behaving  as  if  I  were  a  silly 
little  creature  afraid  of  her  aunts!  Evidently  you 
don't  know  my  father!  He  would  be  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  me  if  I  went  and  climbed  into  that 
steamer.    And  as  to  Brooke,  he'd  never  speak  to 


BLACK  GOLD  277 

me  again.  1  wonder  Sitjovil  Youdon't  realize  the 
sort  of  family  I've  gof 

If  Ware  smiled  to  himself,  he  insisted  sternly. 

**But,  Margarita,  the  canoe  might  tip  over/' 

**Well,  if  it  does,  what  kind  of  a  story  should  I 
be  able  to  tell  at  Sansoe  if  I  wasn't  in  her  when  it 
happened?  Don't  you  know  I  am  going  to  brag 
about  this  all  the  rest  of  my  life!  Anyone  would 
think  you  wanted  to  shame  me  in  the  eyes  of  my 
own  friends  and  relations?  No,  senhor,  you  won't 
have  this  tale  to  yourself.  Don't  you  imagine  for 
one  minute  that  I  am  going  on  board  that  steamer 
without  you." 

She  stopped,  and  added  in  a  meek  little  voice, 
**We  are  eloping,  aren't  we?  You  said  so.  Don't 
let's  spoil  it.  John,  let  me  stay  with  you." 

The  firelight  had  flickered  low  and  the  warm 
tropic  dark  closed  about  them.  The  voices  of  the 
caboclos  seemed  to  come  from  a  long  distance. 
Ware  whispered  to  her,  **  Margarita,  Margarita, 
do  you  know  how  much  I  love  you?" 

She  touched  his  hair  with  the  gesture  of  the 
woman,  looked  at  him  in  the  scented  dimness  with 
the  eternal  eyes  of  the  woman  who  sees  man  al- 
ways as  a  child,  the  mother  eyes  of  the  wise  and 
very  tender.  She  said  gently:  **The  forest  is  so 
near  us  now,  this  great  endless  forest,  and  this 
great  endless  river,  with  so  much  wide,  wide  sky 
above  them.  It  has  been  so  beautiful,  so  consoling 
after  all  that  fever  and  noise  of  people.  All  that 
seems  like  a  strange  dream.  But  the  river  and  the 
forest,  they  are  real.  We  can  neither  of  us  ever 
lose  or  forget  this. ' ' 

He  kissed  the  palms  of  her  hands. 

** Perhaps,"  she  said,  **we  shall  have  to  spend 


278  BLACK  GOLD 

nearly  all  the  rest  of  our  lives  in  houses,  under 
roofs. ' ' 

The  captain  again  decided  to  spend  the  night 
ashore;  he  was  in  no  hurry.  But  after  a  smoke 
and  a  few  hours'  sleep  Ware  saw  the  moon  rise  in 
so  clear  a  sky  that  he  agreed  with  Vicente  that  it 
was  well  to  take  advantage  of  the  favorable 
breeze  and  run  the  canoe  on. 

He  tried  not  to  waken  Margarita,  asleep  under 
the  toldo  and  screened  with  mosquito  netting  to 
keep  away  the  myriad  flies  that  beseiged  the  boat 
when  it  was  not  in  motion.  Lulled  by  the  gentle 
swaying,  she  slept  deep.  But  with  the  approach 
of  dawn  a  stronger  wind  sprang  up,  the  canoe 
flew  in  the  strong  current,  and  she  waked  to  see 
a  strange  sight. 

The  forest  and  sky  were  still  dim,  in  waning 
moon  and  starlight;  half  the  sky  was  darkened 
by  heavy  cloud  banks  that  lay  across  the  eastern 
sky.  But  behind  them  the  rising  sun,  still  hidden, 
sent  invisible  shafts  that  touched  the  water  and 
turned  it  to  burning  gold.  She  stood  up  and  saw 
a  flood  of  molten  light  glowing  between  the  dark- 
lines  of  the  forest;  for  a  long  minute  the  river 
was  a  bright  wonder,  a  path  of  splendor  from 
magic  lands.  In  another  few  seconds  the  sun  had 
pierced  his  way  through  the  clouds,  the  sky 
flamed,  and  the  river  was  again  nothing  but 
water.  On  the  north  a  line  of  flat-topped  blue 
ridges  stood  against,  took  shape,  the  mountains 
that  marked  the  approach  to  Para. 

The  isolation  of  the  journey  had  passed.  Hence- 
forth, as  they  crept  eastwards  under  the  mar- 
shalled ranks  of  matted  trees,  they  sailed  and  pad- 
dled in  company  with  the  kindly  traffic  of  the 
river.   Their  boat  was  one  with  the  craft  of  the 


BLACK  GOLD  279 

river  traders,  hailed  and  greeted  continually  with 
the  freemasonry  of  the  Amazon.  Margarita  sat 
back  within  the  shelter  of  the  toldo,  a  hand  upon 
the  steering  paddle,  while  Ware  and  the  caboclos 
took  turns  at  the  sail. 

In  the  Narrows,  where  the  friendly  long-legged 
huts  stood  in  the  water,  the  gaiola  passed  and  sa- 
luted them  cheerfully.  A  score  of  canoes  came 
and  went  beneath  the  hanging  vines. 

Emerging  from  the  channel  they  entered  at 
last  the  swollen  waters  of  the  Guama,  and  found 
themselves  in  the  track  of  the  busy  highway  out- 
side Para.  Motor  launches  scurried  past,  painted 
with  gay  colors,  jostling  the  slender  canoes;  flat 
rafts  floated  lazily,  laden  with  piles  of  big  black 
rubber  balls,  sending  a  strange  and  persistent 
smell  into  the  heavy  air.  Covered  craft  and  nar- 
row dugouts  of  a  score  of  different  shapes  and 
sizes  negotiated  the  river  in  common  with  fussy 
little  steamers,  all  hurrying  with  their  lumps  of 
black  gold  to  the  rich  and  hungry  markets.  Now, 
far  ahead,  rose  the  raking  funnels  of  a  proud 
transatlantic  liner,  lying  at  her  moorings  as  she 
waited  for  her  rubber  cargo. 

The  runaways  clasped  hands.  The  river  and  the 
forest  lay  behind,  already  vanishing  in  a  haze  of 
gold  and  green.  Before  their  eyes  the  roofs  of 
Para  promised  the  gateway  of  the  broad  sea,  the 
world  itself. 


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